Good Men
by Fastern
Summary: TFA / This tale dips into the adventures of the more minor characters of the show, eventually expanding into a hypothetical "Season Four" and a renewed war between the Autobots and Decepticons.
1. Smoking's A Bad Habit

**Smoking's A Bad Habit**

Whether his name was Hot Rod, Rodimus, or "The Chosen One," Kup had a score to settle with him.

Before Kup was the unnecessarily dramatic courtyard that was the crown jewel of the Autobot Academy. It was filled by the excitement of the impending graduation celebrations being held for the next few days in the ominous shadow of Cybertron's mechanical skyscrapers. Kup had seen it all. Some would make it. The rest would crash and burn in a wreck powered by their own fuel. For some, this school represented the end of the good times. But one thing every Autobot here had in common was a future. That's what this was supposed to be about, and little did that realize that the skyscrapers represented their success as well as the reality that would tear their dreams apart.

Rodimus was cheerfully unaware of this.

He stopped in the middle of the courtyard and took a good look around, a cy-gar hanging out of the corner of his mouth. The frown on his face only grew as he turned in a circle for a full range of vision. The only thing of interest he saw were the distant towers of the Metroplex and Fortress Maximus, located deep within Iacon City. Kup glanced at these buildings and shuddered.

But he moved on. He went in the opposite direction, towards the southern wing of the Academy. Shortly thereafter, he arrived at the top of a ramp that led down into the vast, open expanse that served as the Academy's training grounds. Normally it was a place of simultaneous gossip and hard work, where the students congregated for friendly competitions. His optics traveled until he spotted a deserted shooting range. It was one of the kid's usual hangouts from day one. Still, he wasn't there. The frustration mounting from Rodimus's sudden disappearance nearly boiled over and he grinded the end of his cy-gar between his dental plates.

'Hot Rod!' he called. Kup headed down the ramp. He went a few paces in one direction and then the other. 'Hot Rod! Slaggit. Has anyone seen Hot Rod?'

All he got was a resounding "no" from the nearest Autobots.

'You!' Kup barked at a cadet. The 'bot jumped, ran up, and saluted him. 'Where's Hot Rod?'

'He told me not to tell you where he was, sir!' the cadet admitted.

'Oh? I see, then. How'd ya like to do a few laps? Think that'll change your mind? !'

'Well, uh, sir, there's, uh – he told me not to tell you, sir, but, uh,' the 'bot jerked his head towards a nearby building. 'He's…busy.'

Kup huffed. 'Carry on.'

'Yes, sir! Thank you for not killing me, sir!'

Kup rolled his optics. He wandered off to the warehouse the 'bot had indicated. When he cracked open the door, all he saw were the darkened remains of training equipment that would go unused for the remainder of the break. Yielding no results, he circled the building in the hopes of coming across some clue as to where the show-off was. His clue came when he rounded it entirely and came to his outer rear wall.

He did a double take.

There was a giant, white target painted on the metal siding. Kup scratched his head, evaluating the sloppy work. He searched for a vantage point. The only appropriate location from which one could shoot from was a watchtower located at the far end of the Academy that they occasionally used for training exercises.

A glint of sharp, gold light.

Kup's servo snapped up in time to catch an arrow mere inches from his faceplate.

He gave the watchtower a pointed look, knowing very well who had fired.

* * *

Kup waited patiently in front of the makeshift mural, spinning the gold arrow. He was trying to determine what sort of excuse Rodimus would use on him, if any. Rodimus thought that since he was clearly at the top of his class, that meant he could do whatever he wanted and get away with it. So he didn't always bother to excuse himself, let alone apologize for any wrongdoings. And no one ever complained or tried to stop him. Kup was the sole exception, though he, too, occasionally fell prey to Rodimus's subversive side. But not this time. This time he was going for energon.

He turned just in time to see a group of diverse students hurtle around the next corner. Rodimus was at the front. A burgundy Autobot clutching a signature bow, he was the type of 'bot you remembered simply because of his appearance, which was about as unnecessarily dramatic as the Academy's courtyard. Sometimes Kup wondered if he'd designed himself to look impressive. Nevertheless, today, Rodimus's confidence levels visibly drained when he spotted Kup, replaced by a look of sheer terror.

'Uh…' Rodimus started.

Another Autobot nudged Rodimus playfully. 'You're gonna get it.'

'Quiet,' Rodimus snapped. When he turned back to Kup, there was a sort of renewed self-assurance in his step. 'What's up, Kup?'

'Don't you "what's up, Kup" me!' Kup snapped. 'I've been lookin' for you all over the place!' He looked to Rodimus's entourage. 'You kids clean that target up! If I see one speck of paint when I come by here next, you're all gonna regret the day you came online! GO!'

The group immediately scattered.

'And you are coming with me,' Kup pointed to Rodimus.

He marched back towards campus, with Rodimus in tow. Despite the enormous trouble he was in, he was oddly calm and sauntered alongside Kup.

'What is this?' Kup waved the arrow at the prodigy.

'Looks like one of my arrows,' said Rodimus.

'Slaggit, why do you think we have a shooting range for trigger happy nutcases like you? !'

'Well, you're the one who walked right in front of the target!'

'Why'd you paint it on the building? ! You realize 'bots walk there? !'

'You think I'd shoot if someone was in my line of sight?'

'You shot at me!'

'I didn't shoot on purpose. My servo slipped.'

'I thought you had a steady servo.'

'I do have a steady servo. _Skram_ bumped into me.'

'I don't care what Skram did, I care what you did!' continued Kup. 'That is vandalism, Hot Rod – '

'Okay, my name is not Hot Rod,' Rodimus corrected. 'My name is "Rodimus." Rodimus! It's like Hot Rod, but without the "Hot" and an "imus" at the end! R-O-D-I - Hello!'

Rodimus turned as a pair of femmes passed by.

'Either of you going to the graduation ceremony tomorrow?' he asked. 'I'm available!'

'No, he's not,' Kup grabbed Rodimus by the arm and wrenched, causing him to stumble. 'What is the matter with you? ! Keep your optics in your head, kid! We're going to the headmaster's office to get your assignment.'

'What? !'

'Yup.'

'...I'm not getting it tomorrow?'

'Tomorrow's a public affair. It's tradition for the valedictorian to get their assignment from their headmaster in private the day before. You would've known sooner if you hadn't gone gallivanting around with your chums shootin' at everything that moves. Primus, I'll be glad when you're out of here so you stop givin' me grief! These last few stellar cycles were more stressful for me than the war was!'

Kup checked his cy-gar. All of the delicious snap it'd had when he'd first started had been sucked out. He exchanged it for a new one and was instantly greeted with a familiar kick.

'That's a bad habit,' said Rodimus, no doubt referring to the cy-gar.

'It's not a habit,' claimed Kup. 'It's just to give me somethin' to do with my servos.'

'It's disgusting and crude.'

'Want to try one?'

'Sure.'

Kup brandished a fresh cy-gar and passed it over. No sooner had it made contact with Rodimus's mouth when he doubled over, hacking and wheezing in desperation for air.

'Slag,' Kup picked put up the discarded cy-gar. 'You wasted a perfectly good one.'

Rodimus choked and wasn't able to respond for a matter of cycles. He waited patiently on the sidelines for him to recover, silently remarking to himself that this was the first time since they'd met that Rodimus was on the ground.

'Deep breaths,' advised Kup. 'Don't fight it.'

Nanokliks later, Rodimus pulled himself back up and they resumed their trek.

'How…' he coughed. 'How do you stand those things? They taste like a bad batch of oil mixed with cleaning fluid!'

'It's an acquired taste. Are we going to the headmasters office or not?'

'Yeah, okay. Tell me. Are my sensors going to work after this?'

'Eh,' Kup shrugged. 'You'll have to wait an' see, Hot Rod.'

'Rodimus,' Rodimus rectified.

Kup grunted. 'I still don't see why you changed your name.'

'Because Hot Rod would imply that I'm immature and reckless – '

'And of course you're not.'

' – and those qualities don't exactly become a ranking officer. Not to mention "Rodimus Prime" has a certain twang that I find rather agreeable, don't you?'

'Stick it in your actuator. You haven't gotten any promotion yet. Whatever happens, you'll always be "Hot Rod" to me.'

'I resent that. So, where do you think they'll assign me?'

'I'm not telling you.'

'C'mon – '

'We've been through this. I'm not saying anything. You'll just have to wait.'

'Iacon City?' Rodimus said hopefully.

'Everyone wants to go to Iacon City,' said Kup. 'Get assigned there and you're on the fast track for qualifying for the Elite Guard.'

'Precisely.'

'Hot Rod, the Elite Guard are the defenders of the Commonwealth. They're very picky about who they chose. You're good, but you got some things to work on, so don't expect them to automatically accept you. It's really rare for a graduate of the Academy – even the valedictorian – to go straight to the Guard. You're being overconfident.'

'I looked at the Elite Guard statistics during the war. A lot of 'bots were recruited young back then.'

'Because the vets were dying off so fast that they were desperate to replace them,' Kup reminded him. 'Back then, no matter what you did, you were a soldier. You had to fight. The selection process is far more difficult now than it was two million years ago due to the lack of urgency. It takes years of extensive training in the field before you become a fully fledged member, not to mention there are a number of psychological tests.'

'You mean they make the recruits take psychological tests and Sentinel Minor _passed_? !'

'Oh, knock it off. I'm sick of you cadets makin' jabs at Sentinel.'

'Well, even if I don't get into the Guard right away, I'm sure I'll get Iacon City,' Rodimus affirmed. 'Either that or one of the Moonbases, which is good! But not as good as Iacon City. Do you think I'll get Iacon City?'

'Say it five hundred more times and we'll see.'

Rodimus smirked.

'Don't get any ideas!' added Kup. 'Just wait and see what happens. Just wait.'

* * *

Holographic busts of infamous Autobots lined the corridor outside of the headmaster's office. Rodimus marched in between the rows, Kup having left him to his own devices. He had been up here many times before. This was the first time he'd been allowed to go independently, but also the last time he'd have the privilege of making the journey to the higher levels of the Academy. In a matter of solar cycles he'd finally be free of the influence of the busts staring after him when he finally stopped in front of the headmaster's office and knocked on the door. He was immediately beckoned inside.

The office was a circular room complete with a bay window overlooking the courtyard. From here Rodimus could see the skyscrapers of the city where he was hoping to be stationed, while the planet's two delicate moons loomed far overhead. The area, itself, was plain. The shelves and cupboard were virtually bare except for a few datapads containing codes on conduct. The desk was cleared. And standing just in front of this desk was the headmaster of the Autobot Academy, an upfront, very tall, very intimidating mech with narrow, beady optics that fixated on Rodimus the moment he entered. He was an old war vet who had seen plenty of combat during the war, much like most of the teachers at the Academy. He made Kup seem personable.

Rodimus approached and saluted him.

'Loosen up or that pose'll stick,' the headmaster waved vaguely at him. 'At ease, already!'

Rodimus did as he was told.

'Let's keep this brief,' said the headmaster. 'I got an important meeting to attend to in a few cycles. Before I hand this assignment over, I want you to know that if I had a say in it, you wouldn't be here right now. You're lucky that you're popular among your fellow Autobots. They all voted for you. Sure, you had the grades, but they were the ones who secured your status. But keep in mind. If I wasn't obligated to heed to the demands of the student body, you would be grovelling in the wastelands of Dread.'

'Yes, sir,' nodded Rodimus. This was how the headmaster usually greeted him or anyone else, for that matter.

'That said, let's cut to the chase. Here's your assignment.'

The headmaster handed Rodimus a datapad. Rodimus reached out with shaking servos and had to carefully control his movements to avoid snatching or dropping it. He skimmed down the assignment details, his rapid spark beat preventing all of the information from getting to his processor. What he read was "command" and "promotion."

'You're being assigned to – ' started the headmaster.

'Iacon City?' Rodimus breathed. This wasn't happening. This was his dream come true. Inside, his inner self cheered for joy and was lifted up on the shoulders of imaginary Autobots!

'Iacon City?' the headmaster laughed. 'Don't jump the gun. No. _Athenia_.'

Record scratch. The imaginary Autobots stopped cheering and opened their audio receptors with hesitant anticipation. '…I…don't remember reading about an "Athenia" in geography class. Is that in or near Iacon City?'

'It's in the Magnokor Asteroid Belt. Borders the Galactic Rim.'

The imaginary Autobots dropped his inner self. Rodimus gawked at the headmaster in sheer disbelief.

'The Galactic Rim? !' he shouted. 'Why am I getting sent to the Galactic Rim? ! Only the scum of the galaxy go there!'

'Then I suppose you're one of them,' the headmaster replied, undeterred. 'Now you've received your assignment, and I have to go receive mine. Excuse me.'

The headmaster marched out of the office. Rodimus looked out the window. Towards Fortress Maximus and Iacon City, so close to where Ultra Magnus operated the commonwealth. He should be there, celebrating his success. Galactic Rim. There was no comparison. Somehow, staring at the place where he should be going brought him back to reality. He sprinted after the headmaster.

'Sir, with all due respect,' Rodimus caught up to him in the hall, 'have you blown a diode? ! I'm the valedictorian!'

'Yes, you're also the youngest Autobot to ever receive a command. The board's more interested in seeing what you can do in a beginner's setting.'

'_Beginner's_? !'

'Athenia's a frontier place,' continued the headmaster. 'It's not complicated. You'll be heading a security detail. You'll be responsible for security in and around the government complex based around the Space Bridge that was just built there. The locals aren't very accommodating of government, so it's a part of your duty is to get them on the same page as the council. It's a big responsibility and since you're so good, I'm sure it'll be a synch.'

'I would much rather be assigned to Iacon City.'

'Too bad.'

'What about my promotion? ! Primes don't normally handle places like Athenia; that's something usually reserved for – '

'You're a Minor, not a Prime.'

'What?'

'Look, the board's not comfortable making you a Prime yet,' said the headmaster. He stopped walking and faced Rodimus head on. 'You're not ready yet, so they made you a Minor. You should be glad you got anything at all.'

'I can handle the responsibility; even you know that! You have to talk to the board and tell them – '

'I wouldn't be able to persuade them. Certain 'bots testified to your character and that influenced their decision. They stand by it.'

'…Sentinel…'

'…How did you know that?'

'Sentinel Minor is a loudmouth who needs to shove his chin up his fan belt!'

'That's precisely the attitude the board doesn't like.'

'Wait – are you saying that because Sentinel Minor doesn't like me – '

'It wasn't just Sentinel.'

'Then who else was there?'

'I'm not obligated to tell you and you're in no position to demand. But Sentinel's character isn't the one we're discussing here. It's yours. And whether you like it or not, Sentinel is a valued, intelligent Autobot with some good points. You're a Minor.'

'But Minors are only drill sergeants and – '

'Cadets not ready to handle the full responsibilities of being a Prime.'

'I can take it!'

'Great. You just have to prove that to your superiors.' The headmaster headed off towards the elevators. This time Rodimus was frozen in place, gripped by the unsettling authenticity of his situation. 'The details of your assignment are in the datapad. That's final.'

'But sir – ' Rodimus pleaded.

'Final!'

With that, the headmaster disappeared. Rodimus glared in his general direction. He'd worked hard because he wanted Iacon City. No Iacon City meant no Elite Guard. The only way he'd get in now is if he worked on Athenia for a few centuries before transferring. It was a tricky, long-winded process that was difficult to bypass even with a letter of recommendation from a superior officer. He was being rerouted because of one glaring fact. He was young and not ready to handle the burden of being a Prime. Everything he laboured for didn't mean anything. His dedication didn't mean anything.

Rodimus kicked over the nearest bust and stormed off.

* * *

Everything seemed numb. He couldn't feel anything for the 'bots around him. Rodimus blindly raged through the dormitory, ignoring greetings from his fellow classmates and graduates, following only the sound of muffled rock music playing in the distance.

He burst into his quarters with such force that a few trophies wobbled precariously. His roommate was on his berth, hiding behind a datapad that was clearly the latest issue of his favourite magazine. (This month the cover displayed the newest fad, some femme called Rosanna.) The music was emanating from equipment surrounding his roommate's bunk, while Rodimus's space was decorated by the prototypes to his bow and awards he'd achieved during his term in the Academy. Somehow this only made him feel more miserable and he collapsed onto his berth face-down.

'So should I call you "sir" now or what?' asked Blaster.

Rodimus growled in response.

'Whoops, sorry. Did I forget to salute?'

'Stuff it, Blaster. And turn down that stupid music!'

'Hey, you can say my music is loud an' unintelligible, but you don't call it stupid!' Blaster momentarily put down his datapad.

'Look, either you turn it down or I destroy the stereo. Your decision?'

'Alright, alright.' The decibels went down to a more tolerable level. 'Sheesh, you're touchy for a guy who just got assigned to Iacon City.'

'What makes you think,' Rodimus glared, 'I got assigned to Iacon City?'

'Because you seemed so sure you'd get Iacon City, that it simply must be true!' Blaster exclaimed. ' "When I get to Iacon City! I'm going to be head of security one day! I'm going to be slagging Magnus! Iacon! Iacon! Iacon!" It's been drivin' me off the deep end! So. Are you one of "them" or not?'

'No, I'm not one of "them," I'm one of "those." Take a look.'

Rodimus threw him the datapad.

He lay back while Blaster read. Sulking seemed like an excellent way to end his horrible day. He'd read over the whole datapad as he returned from the headmaster's office. Sure, he got a command, but what good did that do? He wasn't going to be commanding at Iacon City or serve in the Elite Guard; he was banished to the Galactic Rim. To add insult to injury, he was a Minor. Minors weren't exactly the most highly respected 'bots in the galaxy; as a matter of fact, they had a reputation as numb-noids who couldn't quite get to Prime. Rodimus Minor. It didn't suit him. It implied that he'd botched. Had the devotion he'd shown to the Academy meant nothing? Had someone sabotaged his record? Had he made a statistical error along the way? No, that couldn't be it. Rodimus had done everything he was supposed to do. More than that.

His trust in the system had betrayed him; turned right around and shoved a wrench into his hard drive. This was it. His life was over. He was never going to get to Iacon City, let alone into the Elite Guard, let alone come close to being on the High Council. A position of power was unreachable. It was like spinning endlessly in circles, trying to reach for something that had managed to slip out of his fingers. The frustration resulting from this was sickening. It made him want to tear everything and everyone apart, because the world had deceived him.

'This is what's got your crankcase in a knot?' said Blaster, at last. 'It's not so bad!'

'It's not so bad? !' Rodimus sat bolt upright. _'It's not so bad_? ! Blaster, a century ago, I literally had nothing and now I'm the valedictorian at the Autobot Academy! You think I'd at least be rewarded for all my efforts!'

'Dude. Chill. The meltdown thing isn't doing a lot for you.'

'That Sentinel! He testified "against my character" in front of the board, so they decided I wasn't ready for Iacon City! I'm gonna get back at him for this someday…'

'Dude, before you get an idea, we're not going to go get on his bad side right before our graduation ceremony,' said Blaster. 'Now, if we wait until right after that, then we can pull a fast one. That way we can get away clean. See my logic?'

'My life is over.'

'Can I turn up my angst music? It's more cheerful than you're being right now. Thanks.'

Blaster turned up the dial on his stereo just in time for a solo that was enough to render any regular 'bot deaf. Fortunately Rodimus's depressed state was enough to block out any pain that would normally result from his roommate's music. It just seemed like background noise.

Annoying background noise.

'Blaster, take it somewhere else,' snapped Rodimus.

'Is that your first order as Rodimus Minor?'

'You see this?' Rodimus held up an arrow. 'How would you like this jammed up your exhaust port? !'

'…Now that I think about it, I bet my music would be more appreciated at Maccadam's. See ya.'

Blaster grabbed his stereo and ambled towards the door. As he opened it, he nearly ran right into Kup.

'Whoops, sorry, old timer,' Blaster sidled past him.

'Turn that down!' Kup demanded.

'No prob,' Blaster obliged. 'Now why don't you go chat with Mr. Chosen One over there? He's dying to talk to you.'

Kup entered. He and Rodimus simply stared at each other until Blaster's music faded away.

'…Judging by your enthusiasm, I'm guessing you got your assignment,' Kup said. He sat down on Blaster's bunk. 'What's Blaster hoping for?'

Ah. Small talk. 'He doesn't really care. Considering his talent I'm expecting him to get into Moonbase Two or something similar.'

'And you won't be heading to your dream destination?'

'I shouldn't have to tell you.'

Kup sighed. 'Disappointed?'

'I'm not in the mood for another "how do you feel" conversation, Kup,' Rodimus rebuked. 'How could they assign me to the Galactic Rim? Why would they send me all the way out there? ! It doesn't make sense. Everyone kept saying: "Rodimus will get Iacon City for sure! It's where they all go!" I was just telling Blaster, I had nothing, then I had everything, and now I have nothing again.'

'Kid, you're delusional!' Kup snapped. 'What right do you have to think you don't have anything just because you got some low-grade assignment? ! Some 'bots would kill to have anything as good as what you're getting! The way I see it, you should be thankful you did so well. Instead, you're whining because you're gonna have to work some more to get where you want to go!...If you keep that attitude up, I hope you don't succeed. You're being selfish. If you ever want to be Magnus, that's gonna have to go out the window.'

Rodimus didn't dare look Kup in the optic. He was right, of course. He didn't want him to be right, but he was in every way.

'You still think I can make it?' inquired Rodimus.

'Only if you change the attitude. You followin' me?'

'Yeah, I follow.'

'Good,' Kup nodded. 'Besides. I think the Galactic Rim is a great place to build character. It'll surprise you, Hot Rod.'

'Rodimus.'

'You're still Hot Rod to me. So suck it up. It's your first command. That's a lot of responsibility on your shoulders. You can't expect all the gadgets without suffering for a little while. Ultra Magnus didn't get where he is overnight, you know.'

'It's just frustrating that all that hard work was for nothing.'

'It wasn't. You'll see that soon enough.'

Kup looked at him calmly, leaning back, chewing on his cy-gar. Rodimus was tempted to tear it from his mouth. As if reading his mind, and in a rare moment of subtle sincerity, Kup removed the cy-gar and held it between his fingers.

He held out a second one.

Despite his conscience telling him that it wouldn't do anything, Rodimus placed the cy-gar between his dental plates and bit. He was hit with the same unpleasant sensations as before; a rough, but warm, tingling sensation that ran throughout his whole body. But this time it had a sort of addicting quality to it with the appeal of a fond memory. It was a better companion than any other Autobot, more comforting than spending his evening elbow-to-elbow with a beautiful femme. One couldn't hurt. It didn't matter. In a few solar cycles he was going to board a ship bound for Athenia in the opposite direction of where he wanted to go and there wasn't anything he could do to change that.


	2. Iron Fist

**Iron Fist**

The datapad twirled spectacularly in the air before Ironhide caught it, earning him nothing but annoyed looks from the 'bots weaving around him. He cut right through the crowd, his bulk being enough to deter anyone from getting in his way. He was a fish out of water. The cold looks, the strange faces, everything had always seemed larger than life here on Cybertron. Everyone was too preoccupied to stop and marvel at the sights of the city and when they did, they couldn't appreciate the sheer beauty that Ironhide saw in Cybertron's skyline.

Ironhide drew himself from his thoughts and aimed for the ramp that led into the gaping mouth of the Cybertron Intelligence office. Funny. Five full stellar cycles since he'd graduated from the Academy, and this was the first time he'd bothered to visit this branch of Cybertron Command. Not that he'd purposefully avoided it; visiting Intel just never seemed to be on his list of places to visit. It was the kind of department that looked out for itself and shunned the outsiders, even though they were in such close proximity to the council.

That said, Ironhide looked _very_ out of place when he entered the office. He was immediately hit with an unnatural chill that characterized the department's reputation. He barely knew why he was here in the first place, except that Longarm Prime had "requested his presence." Maybe he wanted to give him some sort of top-secret mission or something, though that was doubtful. Ironhide had never prided himself on being able to keep a secret. He peered around the relatively cramped space with mild curiosity, but not anxiousness. At least not enough to sway him. A lifetime of getting hit with random objects and not getting a dent had diminished any paranoid streak he'd ever had. Pausing in the doorway, he caught sight of the only other occupant of the room. He was a stout, red Autobot currently leaning back in his chair, feet on the desk, and optics closed.

'Hey, Cliffjumper,' Ironhide said as cheerfully as he could manage.

The 'bot opened one optic, examined Ironhide, and then, without the least bit of concern, went back to his snooze.

Ironhide shuffled up to the desk. 'You shouldn't be takin' a stasis nap on the job. What if a Decepticon burst in and started shootin' everything?'

'I'd tell him to go right ahead,' said Cliffjumper. 'Do you have an appointment?'

'Uh, yeah. I think.'

'"I think" doesn't count. Either you have one or ya don't. Now which is it?'

'Uh…I have one?'

'Sorry! You're not on the list.'

'But you didn't even check!'

'I don't know you.' Ironhide decided not to point out that they did, in fact, know each other. 'That means you don't work here, which means you don't belong here, which means you're more paperwork than you're worth. Now amscray! Longarm Prime is a busy Autobot and he doesn't have time to deal with idiots like – '

'Like you, Cliffjumper?' another voice intruded.

Cliffjumper grumbled. Longarm Prime – the fabulous head of Intel – had enigmatically appeared in the doorframe of his office.

'Come in, Ironhide,' invited Longarm.

Ironhide chuckled heartily and took him up on the offer.

'Don't you have work to do?' Longarm asked his secretary.

'Don't you?' Cliffjumper retorted.

Longarm sighed in exasperation and followed Ironhide. The office was organized and laidback, with a perfect view of the city around them. Photographs of Longarm with various Autobots were displayed all over the place. Although the atmosphere was welcoming, Ironhide couldn't help but remember that this Autobot was now a ranking member of the council. One who'd risen up over the years to claim this prestigious title while Ironhide had been grovelling at the Academy.

When the door was closed and they were by themselves, Ironhide and Longarm stared at each other for the longest time. Satisfied smirks crossed their faces.

'Well, well, Longarm _Prime_,' Ironhide laughed. They shook servos. 'Good to see you again.'

'The same to you, Ironhide,' said Longarm.

'How did _Cliffjumper_ end up being your secretary?' Ironhide gestured to the exit.

'Cliffjumper,' Longarm sighed. He leaned in, whispering to emphasis the need for it to be a secret. 'I had to pull him off field duty. He's a little bitter about it.'

'Why?' whispered Ironhide.

'Classified.'

Of course.

'I heard that!' shouted Cliffjumper.

'He's "new" at this, although not so much new as disrespectful,' added Longarm.

'I'm as respectful as a Decepticon!' proclaimed Cliffjumper's muffled voice.

'But when he's not being dead lazy, he's quite an efficient worker,' drawled Longarm. 'Sit?'

'Uh, sure,' Ironhide did so.

Longarm headed over to the nearest cupboard, cracked it open, and produced two cans and a bottle. 'Drink?'

'Is that allowed?' asked Ironhide.

'Technically, no, but if Cliffjumper can sneak a drink, so can I.'

'I HEARD THAT!' Cliffjumper shouted.

Longarm poured himself and Ironhide and a can, then resumed his place behind his desk. 'Anything else you'd like?'

Well, he was getting first-class treatment today. That was a nice change. 'Thanks, this is fine!'

Longarm stirred the oil with his finger. 'So…how are you?'

'Fine,' Ironhide tried the oil. Immediately his taste receptors jerked. Sure beat the stuff they served at the ol' Oil House. 'Just completed the final training exercises. Spent the last year getting some hands-on experience at Moonbase Two. Course, mostly I juts followed 'round tour groups. Now that I got a rank, they can transfer me.'

'Oh. Where?'

'Athenia.'

Longarm whistled. 'That's a far cry from Moonbase Two. I thought they would want to keep you on.'

'I thought so, too.' Ironhide paused. 'Not that I'm _complaining_, 'course, I don't really mind. Much. No, not really. I don't care where I go, as long as I enjoy the job.'

'Yes, I agree. Didn't they just build a Space Bridge at Athenia?'

'Yup. Athenia's been "off the beaten track" fer a long time. Guess they decided that the 'bots over there needed to get back in contact with civilization. So that's why they built the Space Bridge.'

'Hm, that's very true,' nodded Longarm. 'We've had a few problems over at Athenia. I doubt you'll be bored.'

'…What sorta problems?'

'Decepticon activity, for one thing, but nothing as extreme as a raid. Athenia's been short of supplies in and past and they'll deal with Decepticons or collaborators or neutrals if they need them desperately. There are a few shady characters. Officially it's supposed to be a science station, but I believe there are some mines they had to close down recently.'

'Great. I'll fit right in. Nearly failed science back at the Academy. Oh, that reminds me! Guess who's my commanding' officer?'

'Rodimus Minor.'

'Shucks, I was hopin' to be the one to tell ya…'

'In this department, it's my duty to know all the happenings around Cybertron,' said Longarm. 'The board apparently wanted to see how he would handle a standard command before considering him for the Elite Guard. Only the best get into it.'

'He sure thought he was the best…'

'Hm?'

'Oh, I've – I've met him a few times. We were paired up for a few times for combat training. He's nice enough when ya get to know him. I wasn't surprised when they named him valedictorian.'

'I believe Red Alert is also going to be on your team.'

'Who?'

'Red Alert? She's the doctor who found a cure to Gold Plastic Syndrome. She occasionally works with Wheeljack and Perceptor; I'm sure you've seen her around. I'm afraid I don't know who the two others are.'

'Some Athenia locals. Never met them.'

'The government probably certified them for the security detail because they did not want the locals to get the impression that they were being discriminated.'

'Would the government do that?'

'I'm not sure. That isn't my department.'

'I bet they _would_.'

'The government doesn't like it when you talk like that, Ironhide.'

Ironhide shook his head. 'Sorry. You won't tell anyone I said that, right?'

'I wouldn't dream of it.'

They sat in awkward silence that was just long enough to notice it.

'So, 'nough talk 'bout what I'm doing,' said Ironhide. 'What are you up to nowadays? I mean, how did _you_ get from cadet to head of Intel in record time?'

'Highbrow Prime,' Longarm raised his can, as if making a toast. 'Bless his spark. I don't mean to brag or anything, but I _did_ become his favourite. I did a few years of field work before I moved into administrative duties. I was his personal assistant for quite sometime. And then he…'

'…Vanished. Any luck?'

'Six megacycles, still nothing,' Longarm sighed. 'Highbrow does sometimes go on missions without telling anyone, but it's unlike him to go this long without making contact. No agent can find any trace of him. But, under the circumstances, the council agreed that I'd be best to serve as his replacement until he returns. If he returns. Nobody is optimistic that he's alive. The morale among the agents is low. Some of them were personally selected and trained by Highbrow. You preferred to choose who was in his department; he knew them all. I'm not Highbrow, but in his absence, I'm going to do the best that I can to be a good commander to them.'

'Always the saint.'

'It's the least I can do for them.'

'Especially for Cliffjumper, an alcoholic with anger management problems.'

'Certainly.'

'Speaking of which,' Ironhide put the can on the desk. 'I better quit now before I dig a hole I can't get out of. I have to go meet Rodimus Minor outside the Academy so we can take the transport.'

'You're taking the same transport?'

'Yeah.'

'Is that a coincidence or are you hoping to suck up to your new boss?'

'Suck up.'

'Good for you. That's how I got this position.'

Hollow laughter. They both knew what the other was thinking. Ironhide was too nervous todo anything but sit here and make small talk about teheir current lives. Again, they waited for the other Autobot to break the silence.

'…How's Wasp?' asked Ironhide.

'About as good as can be expected, considering,' Longarm answered a little too quickly.'

'What about the investigation?'

'Oh, he's guilty. The inquiry you submitted was closed sometime ago.'

'How do you know he's guilty?'

'He had a Decepticon communicator, he has a history, and a psychiatrist declared him to be emotionally unstable. All warning signs.'

'So because he has a history, he's a traitor?'

'The history of a 'bot says a lot about him. You're beginning to sound anti-Autobot again, by the way.'

'I'm just tryin' to get it.'

'It's been stellar cycles, Ironhide.'

'I dunno,' Ironhide frowned. 'Every so often I just begin to go over it in my head an' something just feels off…About the whole thing. Everythin' about it.'

'Explain.'

'Well, uh, it just seems out-of-character for Wasp, to start,' continued Ironhide. 'It doesn't make sense. He was pro-Autobot all the way. He was always talkin' about how he'd kick 'con tail plates an' do all these nifty things to help the Autobots.'

'Spies are trained to cover their tracks long,' Longarm said. 'Wasp was merely filling your head with lies about his character. He wanted to be the farthest thing from a traitor. He was acting. Anyone could've fallen for it, Ironhide.'

'I guess.'

Longarm smiled. 'Forget it. It's in the past. Wasp was caught and that is that. And it's a _very_ good thing we caught him before he could rise up the ranks of the Elite Guard – or worse – _Intel_. Imagine if he was a member of one of the most influential organizations on the Autobot Commonwealth.'

Ironhide didn't immediately answer. He stood. 'I should go. I gotta meet Rodimus.'

'Before you do,' Longarm piped up. 'I would juts like to forewarn you about Decepticon activities centering around Athenia. It's not an ideal place to look for peace and quiet.'

'Good thing I ain't lookin' for peace and quiet,' chortled Ironhide.

Longarm escorted him to the office door. 'There is still time to reconsider. You could request a transfer. It would be a shame if you caught up in Decepticon activities.'

'Oh. _Oh_. Heh, you don't half'ta worry 'bout me, Longarm. I can watch myself! I mean, 'sides, I wanna help in any way I can.'

If Longarm was still worried, he hid it well. Instead of protesting, Longarm shook his servo.

'Very well,' he said. 'In that case, I wish you the best on luck.'

'Hey, same here,' Ironhide nodded. 'Primus, I gotta run if I'm gonna catch Rodimuas. When I swing by Cybertron next, we should go out for oil or somethin' like that.'

'Agreed. Goodbye.'

'See you!'

He left Longarm behind. Ironhide was filled with a sense of relaxation he hadn't really felt since he'd heard the news about Athenia. He paused at the exit, looking back at Cliffjumper. The Autobot Longarm had described as "lazy" was currently circling the room. He appeared to be scanning it.

'…What are you doing?' asked Ironhide.

'Making sure Mirage isn't here,' answered Cliffjumper. 'He can turn invisible, you know.'

'…I see,' Ironhide said.

He smirked as he left. Athenia was going to be a breath of fresh air.

* * *

Ironhide took a good look around at the student body. There were so many of them that they seemed faceless in comparison. This was the deadline for all graduating students to move out, so the courtyard was filled with frantic initiates rushing to get off the complex. These were the 'bots he homed in on, but he knew better than to go looking for the 'bot he was searching for. He'd come to him sooner or later. Hopefully he just showed his faceplate before the transport left.

He didn't have to wait much longer because it was at that point that the general chatter from the crowd seemed to be silenced by wailing. Five stellar cycles. Five stellar cycles and you could still hear Hot Rod coming from a mile off. Ironhide spotted a trio of sobbing femmes trialing behind Rodimus. He had his back to Ironhide, but you could smell his desperation to shake them off.

'Look, ladies, I know I'm going far away…' Rodimus started.

They wailed even louder.

'I'll miss all of you, too!' exclaimed Hot Rod. He wrapped an arm around the shoulder of the nearest femme. 'You can always write me!'

Louder.

'I assure you all that I'm _always_ a phone call away!' Rodimus managed to make himself heard. 'Now come on, smile a little! It's not gonna be forever!'

It took him a few minutes to calm them down. By that time, they were all sniffing and hugging Rodimus before he managed to break away. They promised to see him off at the port, burst into tears, and disappeared. He shook his head and walked off. Ironhide straightened himself and raised a finger expectantly.

Rodimus went right past him.

He passed at a brisk, determined pace towards the gates; obviously he wanted to get off the grounds as soon as possible.

Ironhide pursued him. 'Hot Rod?'

'_Rodimus_,' corrected Rodimus. 'It's Rodimus Minor. Now what'dya want?'

'Maybe you don't remember, but I sent you a message just yesterday and – '

'If I stole your girlfriend, you're gonna be relieved know that I am getting shipped to the other end of the universe, therefore, I am not going to be anywhere _near_ any cute femmes for years to come. That's enough punishment, don't you think?'

'Great! We can double date!'

Rodimus glanced over his shoulder.

'Do I know you?' Rodimus inquired.

'Ironhide. Remember?'

'I dunno. Is your girlfriend in the fan club?'

'We were partners. About five stellar cycles ago. Combat training. Remember? Your arrows just kept bouncin' off me.'

'Ah.'

'You don't remember me, do you?'

'Nope.'

Ironhide was disappointed, but he wasn't really all that surprised. 'Well, to cut to the chase, I've been assigned to your team.'

'Have you? I'm gonna have to reread that report…'

Ironhide held out the datapad with the report on it. Rodimus glared at it suspiciously before skimming through it.

'"Ironhide,"' Rodimus read out loud. 'Well, that changes things. Welcome to the team.'

'And as my first act as a member of this team, I have to remind you that your flight leaves in half-an-hour.'

'Half-an-hour? That can't be right…'

'Yeah, well, it's in half-an-hour, so I think we better get _going_,' Ironhide emphasized.

'Ugh, you're right,' Rodimus sighed. 'Let's go. To the lavish Athenia. Population: two tons of dirt and maybe a rock.'

Ironhide laughed.

'Oh, yeah, sure, you laugh now, but just wait until we get there and you'll see I'm right.'

'Patrols should be easy, then.'

'Yeah, our biggest threat will be Athenia crumbling underneath our feet.'

'The short-lived empire of Rodimus Minor.'

'Right. You know what? I think I might remember you after all.'

'You do?'

'No.'

Out on the road, Rodimus was the first to transform and pull into traffic. Ironhide reviewed Rodimus's last words in his mind, shrugged, and followed him into the streets.


	3. Survival Rate

**Survival Rate**

"LAWS STOP HERE."

That's what the holographic letters arched over the street read. Obviously they wanted every 'bot who wandered through here to get the chance to make a run for it. Butthat's not what Brawn was here to do; he was here to get in, get out, and get to a safe zone before he regretted stepping into this kind of neighbourhood.

Axiom Nexus had two sides to it. There was the side that all the tourists and travellers saw when they ventured into the city, the side with flashing neon lights polluting the minds of the naïve. Then there were the sub-levels, where he was. The labyrinth of streets were narrow and twisted. The buildings so tall that they blotted out all natural sunlight that managed to break through the poisonous yellow clouds. (Though Brawn wasn't even sure if this system _had_ a sun.) around here, there was barely any room to transform and it was designed to be difficult for law enforcement to navigate. Shops were subversive, to say the least. Bars were places of corrupt and desire. No questions asked. There was a shifty character haunting every corner. This was the kind of place Brawn used to love – to find exhilarating – in his younger years, when he took the night off to forget about the war.

Brawn descended a staircase and stepped out on to what must've once been a brilliant avenue. There were even trees made of twisted metal dividing the traffic lanes. Nowadays, it was overrun with scrap metal, tires, and other random debris. He even stepped over a body part or two. To Brawn's far right, there was a massive gate that abruptly cut the street off, as if it had been place there for the sole purpose of keeping something in or out. He headed in that general direction, trying to remember where it was. But he needn't have worried. Tucked into a tight corner to the left of the gate was a double door with a neon sign above it that flickered, crying out for some sort of attention.

"Widow's Café."

Brawn approached the door. Cautiously. He didn't want to startle anyone lurking in the darkness; he always hated 'bots who launched sneak attacks, like they had to sneak up instead of fighting face-to-face. There was a sign next to the bar that he quickly read over. "No Megatrons, Primes, or MacGuffins." (He'd never really been sure what this meant.) In front, Brawn paused a final time and checked for a bouncer that did not exist. He entered.

Widow's Café didn't care who you were, as long as you planned to pay for your booze on the way out. The moment Brawn entered their ranks, he spotted everyone from Decepticons, to Autobots, to neutrals, to factions he didn't recognize, and all the way to a handful of Nebulans and Quintessons. Characters from every background were willing to risk a trip down to the gutter of Axiom Nexus for a taste of the Café. There were two levels. The bar was located on the upper floor. Then there was an atrium where bar patrons could look down on the ring below, though "ring" was a very loose way to describe it. Really it was just an open space where those who were tough enough were willing to beat the slag out of each other to earn some easy cash.

It was a quiet night. Patrons were leaning over the railing, cheering on one _very_ noisy round going on below; Brawn couldn't see who was duking it out from this angle. Though he had a hunch. He turned his attention to the normally crowded bar.

Here sat the despondent Crystal Widow, a femme with a constant distracted look in her optics that made it clear she didn't care what happened. Brawn aimed for her.

She barely looked up. 'Brawn.'

'Widow,' he nodded. 'I see you're as cheerful as ever.'

'What are you doing here? Though I don't care either way.'

Like that was news to him. 'Springer in the house?'

'See for yourself,' Crystal Widow pointed to the ring.

Brawn did. He marched over, shoved aside a few patrons, and looked down.

He was just in time to see Springer deliver an uppercut to a Decepticon's chin, launching the enemy high into the air.

The Decepticon arched back and hit the floor. Springer took a step back, purple energon dripping off of his fist. He looked quite pleased with himself. Springer. A green, bulky Autobot who was large enough to challenge Ultra Magnus and not feel too hesitant about fighting him, with a sword at the ready and an emotion chip the size of Estham's Nebula. Had an ego to match.

On que, Springer drew out his sword and descended on the enemy with a characteristic battle cry. The 'con screamed and barely managed to roll out of the way, leaving the sword lodged in the floor. The crowd roared with approval. For an encore, Springer lifted the Decepticon over his head and tossed him out of the ring. He circled, gesturing for calls of "Srpinger" and "Wreckers" combined. Brawn? He glowered down, arms folded.

That was when Springer spotted him.

It brought him back down to reality. Springer departed the ring and the betters started collecting or giving up their money.

Minutes later – after the crowd had calmed and new opponents took to the ring – Brawn shadowed Springer as the latter stepped into the open streets. He was shaking the liquid energon off his servo.

'What the slag are you doing here?' Springer asked. 'I thought you were working for Cybertron Services.'

'I _am_ working for Cybertron Services.'

'Oh, well, that's keen!' Springer abruptly turned and leaned against the side of the building. 'Imagine! You, a loyal employee! Primus, I can't imagine what they were thinking!'

'Shut up!' Brawn jabbed a finger at Springer's knee, which was the highest point he could reach. 'It's not funny! I'm here on business!'

'Is that so?'

'You're in big trouble, ya know that?' he persisted. 'Wait, hold that thought. You _do_ know. You just don't think the rules apply to you. As usual!'

'Look who's talkin'!'

'This is serious! I've spent the last few days visitin' every bar from here to Athenia! Blue Deployer! Maccadam's! I've been from the top to the bottom, and I find you in the _Widow's Café_? ! Is it just me, or is this a running gag with you?'

'You've been lookin' around just for me? This wouldn't happen to be about that assignment, would it?'

'So you _did_ receive the notification.'

'And you decided to ignore it.'

'Bingo.'

'Look, Springer, I'm not in the mood to hear your excuses,' Brawn continued. 'They sent me here to drag you back to Athenia. The assignment is mandatory. It's the same deal I got. You do what the guys back at Cybertron say, they magically forget about all the trouble you've been causin' around the Galactic Rim. You're a crook!'

'I'm not a criminal!'

'If you're not a criminal, what are you doing out here?'

'What I do with my spare time is _none_ of your business!'

'Slaggit, Springer, the Wreckers are dead!' shouted Brawn.

'Springer winced. 'Don't bring that up!'

'I'll bring 'em up all I want!"

'You know what?' Springer clenched his fists. 'I can beat you up all I want down here and nobody's gonna stop me.'

'_I_ will.'

'Why you little – '

'I dare you to try it, Springer.'

Springer's optic twitched.'

'The Wreckers have been dead since the war,' Brawn said. 'They've been dead since the government said they were dead, even when the few lucky survivors went rouge. And where are they? ! They're all withering away in places like this, because you keep lying to them that the Wreckers still have a purpose. There's no point pretending that they still exist and that you're still one of them. It's time you accept that that part of your life is in the past!'

'I'm in charge of the Wreckers; I can't just turn my back on them!' exclaimed Springer.

'_What_ Wreckers? ! The government says that the Wreckers officially disbanded! They don't exist anymore!'

'Spoken like a true government employee. And what does the Brawn that I know think?'

'The Wreckers are done! Capish! Finite! If you think that beatin' up Decepticons every now and then with a ragtag group of wanna-be tough guys make you a Wrecker – well, then, you're more deluded than I thought. _You_ need to come back with me to Athenia so we can get started on the assignment that they gave us. I hate 'em too, but they _are_ tryin' to stop you from ruining your life and the lives of the so-called "Wreckers!"

'The Wreckers are NOT out of business!' Springer protested. 'We're out fighting Decepticons behind enemy lines – '

'Fer cryin' out – the war's OVER!'

'The war may be over, but the 'cons still exist! As long as the 'cons exist, the Wreckers are gonna be there to beat the slag out of them until they're begging for mercy that we aren't gonna give them!'

'You and your friends poking at the 'cons isn't gonna make a difference! This is your chance to restart your life! I was smart enough to take the deal; I suggest you do the same!'

'I like the way my life is right now!'

'A group of disbanded "commandos" isn't gonna make any difference to anyone, Springer!'

'The Wreckers have not disbanded!' argued Springer.

'You have to call off this stupid vigilante thing you have going on! You know the Autotroopers raided your place a few days ago?'

Springer blinked. For the first time, he looked worried, and he turned away. '…No…I didn't hear about that…'

'Because you haven't been around to check up on it! They were looking for evidence to convict you with! Unless you take the job at Athenia, you're gonna wind up in a hole you can't dig yourself out of. They don't like Autobots crossing the line!'

'Crossing the line? !' laughed Springer. 'They sit in their offices, drinking vintage oil, _partying_, doing absolutely _nothing_ about the Decepticons! They can say the Decepticons are dead, they can say they weren't a threat anymore, but I know better! I was fighting with them just last week! I was fighting with one in there! The way I see it, the Wreckers won't be over until everyone one of those stupid 'cons are dead in the Pit, or better yet being melted into scrap metal! At least I'm doing something about the 'cons! You have some nerve accusing me of crossing the line, Brawn! I haven't seen you do anything to help the Autobots!'

Brawn grabbed Springer's wrist and flipped him.

'You wanna run that by me again?' Brawn leaned down, coming face-to-face with Springer. '_Sheesh_. What's your problem? You think you can pick fights with anyone who comes around? You seem to have this notion that you're not being useful unless you're fighting! I thought Yoketron taught you better than that!'

'Hey!' Springer rolled over. 'Ixnay on Yoketron!'

'Listen here, Springer, I'm not gonna sit around an' let you rot in the Widow's Café. You're gonna come back to Athenia. Now are you gonna come back willingly or am I gonna have to drag you there?'

'I'm not goin' anywhere,' Springer said. 'And you're not making me!'

Sadly, this was true. Brawn was strong. Most 'bots took one look at him and would do whatever he said. But if anyone could resist his methods of persuasion, it was Springer. They glowered at each other.

'Sorry, Brawn, but I got better things to do then to protecting a stupid Space Bridge,' said Springer. 'I'm going back to the bar. Any more objections?'  
Brawn had lost. He knew this. He'd lost the battle, but he hadn't lost the war. He pursued Springer back to the door of the Café.

'Alright, you can hide all ya want!' Brawn called. 'But I'm gonna come back with the new commander an' a whole lot of muscle!'

'Good luck with that!' Springer waved at him vaguely.

The door swung open. Then it closed. Springer was gone.

Brawn lingered. When he realized that Springer had no intention of coming back out, he turned and marched off, steaming. He'd come all this way only for Springer to refuse to return to Athenia like a stubborn protoform, too wrapped up in his fantasy world of heroics. A life that had ended stellar cycles ago, whether he cared to admit it or not. But Brawn wasn't about to give up. If he was going to save Springer from his own immaturity - as _usual_ – he'd have to get backup. It was situations like this where Brawn specialized in what he liked to call "tough love."

He just sure as hell hoped this commander knew how to knock some heads together. It was the only way Springer would listen.


	4. Poker Face

**Poker Face**

'...So they jus' got the impression that they could hit me with anything an' I wouldn't mind!' the young country 'bot exclaimed. 'I know I should be used to it by now, but...to be honest...every time they do that I wanna throw stuff at _them _an' see how they feel 'bout it!'

He laughed warmly.

Brawn had made it back to Athenia after being delayed at the Space Bridge for a few hours. He'd arrived early this morning and so far had no inspiration as to how to convince Springer to come back to Athenia. Albeit, a part of him knew that if he complained to the authorities, they'd send a whole regiment out to fetch Springer. But nobody really wanted to do that. One of the reasons why was because everyone liked and respected Springer too much. A better reason was that everyone had the common sense to not deal with Springer when he was in a bad mood.

To cheer himself up, Brawn had trekked out to his favourite bar on Athenia. It was a place he been a regular at since the war, and in all that time, it hadn't changed one bit while the world outside had been altered and corrupted by berocracy. The tables and chairs were still worn down. The oldest brands of oil still sat behind the counter, accompanied by an unnecessary amount of mirrors that expanded the room's netherworld. The lighting still had a dismal effect on the décor, making it seem darker rather than lighter. This was the only part of Athenia that didn't share a single characteristic with the new world formulating outside, the one where Autotroopers patrolled the streets and science crews ran wild. The city he'd known as Athenia had died the moment they erected the Space Bridge and told the citizens that it was time to come out of their rooms.

_That's _where this fellow came in. This cheerful, bright orange 'bot sitting next to Brawn at the bar, apparently fresh from a Moonbase. Brawn was inclined to hate him, but he was so slagging _nice,_ he was finding it difficult to do that. When he'd marched into the bar, there the kid was relaxing in _Brawn's_usual spot. Brawn had threatened to pulverize the stranger. The stranger had laughed it off and bought him a drink. Went from there.

His name was "The Indestructible" Ironhide. Ironhide had briefly demonstrated how he'd earned this alias by transforming his outer shell into a nearly-indestructible alloy. But to Brawn, Ironhide was "Resourceful," especially when he imagined pitting him against Springer. Springer was still a bit larger than Ironhide, but Brawn figured a combined effort of both of them would bring the guy down.

'You know what I'd do?' asked Brawn.

'...What?' inquired Ironhide.

'I'd throw 'em over the edge of this slaggin' asteroid.'

'Is that yer answer to everything?'

'Yup. How'd you guess?'

'Oh,' Ironhide shrugged sheepishly. 'So you're under Hot Rod, too?'

'Hot Rod? I thought his name was Rodimus or somethin' like that.'

'Well, his real name's Rodimus Minor, but I knew him when he was Hot Rod. So I just call'm Hot Rod.'

'You were classmates?'

'Yeah. We weren't really friends, but it's nice to have a familiar face 'round these parts. Hot Rod's not happy 'bout it. He wanted Iacon City.'

'Fresh from the Academy and he expected to get Iacon City?' Brawn narrowed his optics.

'Well, yeah. He was the favourite an' all. Didn't help him much.'

'No kidding,' Brawn murmured. He didn't like the sound of this Rodimus Minor already. 'You know who else is on this team?'

'Some femme called Red Alert. Medic. She's supposed to be famous or somethin', but I don't know the name. Don't know who the other one is.'

'His name's Springer.'

'Springer. That name sounds familiar...'

'Should be. He's the leader of the Wreckers...Or what's_ left _of the Wreckers. Nowadays they're just known as "trouble." That punk landed me in this bar in the first place.'

'I thought all the Wreckers were killed during the Great War.'

'Most of them were. A few members weren't on the Xantium when it was destroyed. Like Springer. Doesn't value his life at all. The Wreckers tend to live fast and die hard. New guys don't last long, not to mention they were very selective about who got in in the first place. I used to work with them a bit. I knew Impactor. Springer took his offlining hard; I don't think he ever really recovered from the loss of all the Wreckers who'd mentored him.'

'Sorry to hear that.'

'Yeah, a lot of 'bots are. Anyways, _Springer's _caused a lot of Autobot-Decepticon tension, which we don't really need, do we? So the government made'm "volunteer" for this security detail, just to get him away from the other Wreckers. And you know what happened when he didn't show his sorry face? They sent _me_ to go fetch him! Springer doesn't listen to _anyone_. Now they're gonna weigh on me 'cause I couldn't convince Springer to get back to Athenia and Springer's decided he ain't gonna accept the assignment. That leaves this detail two 'bots short!'

'Why doesn't he want to come to Athenia?'

'He's just being all dramatic! Ever since the Wreckers officially disbanded, Springer's been tryin' to keep it alive. He keeps sayin' that they have to cause as much trouble for the 'cons as possible, but that only causes trouble for Autobots like you an' me! For a guy who fought alongside Impactor Major, he isn't very smart.'

He paused.

'But, I gotta admit,' Brawn said quietly, 'he has the right idea.'

'What'dya mean?'

'Look, Cybertron Command's always sayin' that the 'cons aren't a threat anymore, but we all know that ain't true. They're just waitin' for their numbers to increase so they can invade us. And guess which colony's gonna be overtaken in a nanoklik? _Athenia_. Trust me, the guys at Cybertron Command won't do anything to help us out. If I wasn't tied up at the moment, I'd be out there drivin' the 'cons insane!'

'But you're tied up.'

Brawn huffed.

'Does Springer live around here?' Ironhide thankfully changed the subject.

'Lately? No. He has quarters, but he doesn't hang out there much. It'll be a miracle if they can make Springer hang out around a Space Bridge all day. Hey. HEY!' Brawn waved down the bartender. He indicated the oil. 'Another. Gotta I get all I can get. Stupid Space Bridge. Stupid Cybertron Command. And most of all..._stupid _Springer! Wish I was back in the mines. At least I could break things an' not get arrested for it.'

'You worked in the mines?'

'Sure. Before the cave-ins. They did an inspection after they decided to build the Space Bridge. Ninety-seven percent of the mines were deemed to be unsafe. So ninety-seven percent of the miners were laid off. Myself included. We were kicked out and told to get new jobs. But it's hard to picture yourself doin' anything else other than what you've been doin' since the day you were protoformed.'

'The cave-ins didn't scare ya?'

'_Nope_,' he said. He examined the surface of the oil, checking for any bolts or any other unpleasant surprises. Tentatively, he took a sip. 'The oil around here is more dangerous than the mines.'

Ironhide glanced at his oil and pushed it away.

They sat in silence, drinking oil while the bar remained its bleak, miserable self. This was the last remains of old Athenia, about to be revamped and transformed into some militaristic paradise for the Elite Guard. Of course, Ironhide wouldn't know that. Their culture – everything that made them Athenia Autobots – was going to be buried and forgotten. Brawn hated it. He would do anything he could to defy them. But at the same time he had to go along with it. It nagged at his conscious and the instinct to go along with Springer's idea of becoming somewhat of an outlaw. It would be better than this slag heap.

'What was your name again?' Ironhide asked.

'Brawn.'

Ironhide held out a servo. Brawn glared, but shook it.

'Nice to make your acquaintance,' said Brawn. 'I can't say Springer'll shake your hand, though. So brace yourself.'

Ironhide grinned. When he thought Brawn wasn't looking in his direction, he cringed and shook out the servo that Brawn had crushed.


	5. A Spring in his Step

**A Spring in his Step**

Rodimus was far from Kup, Cybertron, and Iacon City, but that didn't mean that his training had stayed behind with his hopes and dreams. As long as he ran this place with an iron fist, he'd be able to handle security in this strange, vacant colony. From what he could gather, the social structure around here was a touch-and-go thing; you dealt with problems as they arose. Organization meant nothing. Rodimus hadn't quite figured out whether he could use this to his advantage. Nevertheless, he resolved to clean up the act around here. Who knows? Maybe Ironhide had been onto something when he suggested that he could establish his own empire.

He'd arrived on Athenia two solar cycles ago to a lot of controversy. "His coming had been foretold." Evidently he couldn't get away from "The Chosen One" nickname, even this far out. The locals were mostly older Autobots who seemed disgruntled at Cybertron Command's occupation of the area. Rodimus could understand that. Kup had said that Athenia used to be a peaceful colony that stayed on the sidelines and _liked_it that way. Dark, but cozy. When Cybertron Command intervened, the place was revolutionized. Its municipal government underwent a reformation, with proper politicians elected and the corrupted ones pulled out. They received Autotroopers, something usually reserved for only places of special interest. Athenia's technology was updated. And all this was done without taking into consideration the opinions of the locals, who hated change in any form.

Now the locals loathed anything to do with the government and the government didn't trust them about as much as the locals didn't trust the government. They seemed to believe that Cybertron Command was crooked. Something about the abuse of power in the Great War or something thereof. It was hardly an uncommon story; similar tales had swept through the sparse colonies teetering dangerously on the edge of the Galactic Rim. Athenia was a remnant of the past, a dangerous animal that had been pulled out of its natural environment.

Everything had settled down at present and Rodimus's official assignment was to keep the peace between the locals and everyone else.

Rodimus decided to start his first official day on the job by circling the Space Bridge and trying to get a lay of the land. It was set apart from the taller buildings, probably to give incoming and outgoing shipments plenty of room to crash. The terrain was rocky, with a greyish-blue hue and good traction. Meanwhile, the asteroids also in the belt frequently blotted out large portions of the starry sky. The Magnokor Asteroid Belt orbited a yellow dwarf star that only shone on them every few solar cycles, due to Athenia's odd rotational habits. Overall, this place was..._really_...quiet. Nothing like the bustling Iacon City.

He orbited the Space Bridge twice until he was sure it was safe to approach. Weird. Technically he was in command, but he was afraid to get near the darn thing. Rodimus came up on foot, pretending to look like he knew what he was doing. Truth was he didn't. He didn't know _what_he should do. Bark out orders or slink away.

At the foot of the Space Bridge, Rodimus took a quick look around. He walked parallel to the Space Bridge. He shielded his eyes and scanned the area for any sign of life. Then he went to the other end, stopped, and looked again. There wasn't a spark in sight.

Where was everybody?

Someone opened a comm. link.

'_Well, well, well, if it isn't the new kid!_' chimed a voice on the other end, a voice Rodimus usually applied to a salesman. '_Welcome to the Pits. Don't worry. The rooms are heated_.'

'...Uh...' Rodimus tapped his comm. link and peered around for any sign of the speaker.

'_I'm honoured to meet you!'_ the voice continued. '_Nice seeing a fresh face around here. Most of the time I see the same ol' coots day after day, but someone new? Fresh from the Academy? This is the best thing that's happened to my business since self-bouncing ballobots! I got a catalogue of the things I can get for you. Want me to send it to your quarters?'_

'Who is this?' Rodimus asked as patiently as he could muster.

'_Hubcap's the name,_' said the Autobot. '_I work in communications...Technically. But I'm really a…businessman.'_

'Where are you?'

'_Turn around_.'

Rodimus did so. He was now facing the plain, with the colony perched at the other end.

'_A little to your left_.'

To the left of the colony was a control tower that shadowed the remainder of the city.

'_Yup! You're lookin' right at me!_'

'How can you see me from way over there?' asked Rodimus.

'_Cameras, duh__. Did you know that Athenia has one of the most extensive security camera systems on the Galactic Rim?'_

'I hope you're not in the habit of spying.'

'_Wouldn't dream of it.'_

'Alright. Do you know where my team is?'

_'If you need anything – and I mean _anything – _just holler! I rarely leave this place anyways, so there isn't much to do except to run my business. One of my contacts recently got me a shipment of car wax that smells like flowers from Risa. _The_ Risa! It makes the perfect gift! I hear you have a fan club. I can send them all a can for a very reasonable price! How about it? You sold yet?'_

'Do you have a license for your..."business?"'

'_That's a personal question, so I'm not going to answer that.'_

'Never mind; I'll deal with you later,' said Rodimus. 'As soon as I meet my team. Speaking of which, do you know where they are?'

'_Did you know that Flareup and Warpath are dating_?'

'Who?'

'_Flareup and Warpath! Big, brutish pair. Trust me, if you'd met them, you'd have scars to remember them by.'_

'Well, _I've_ never met them and _I'm_ not much of a gossiper,' Rodimus rolled his optics. He couldn't believe he had to associate with these devious characters. 'Where's my team?'

'_What's your favourite brand of oil? Because I have some nice vintage stuff right here. Can't get it anywhere else. Predates the Autobots, you know._'

'Hubcap,' Rodimus interrupted. 'If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to change the subject.'

'_Me?_ _Never. How about that last meteor shower?_'

'Does your business have a license or not?'

'…_Look, Brawn was gonna pulverize me if I didn't do what he said_.''Brawn? That's a member of my crew.'

'_No kidding.'_

'What happened?'

'_Brawn told me to…stall_.'

'Oh. Why?'

'_Well…right now, he and Ironhide aren't exactly…local_.'

'What do you mean? Are they even on Athenia?'

'…_No._'

'You mean to tell me that they transwarped without authorization?'

'…_Maybe…_'

'Then where are they?'

'_Well, uh…__Brawn and Ironhide went to Axiom Nexus. They said something about Springer._'

Springer. Yet another member of his crew. 'When did they plan on coming back?'

'_They weren't specific on the details_.'

Rodimus knew exactly what was going on around here. It was a classic example of slacking off. They'd run off to Axiom Nexus for the sole purpose of getting Rodimus into trouble, to prevent him from getting that promotion and the guaranteed transfer to Iacon City. Rodimus was _never_ going to get it unless the team reported for duty like they were _supposed_ to do.

'Alright, fine,' Rodimus sighed. 'I'll have to go get them, myself.'

'_Listen, pal, have you ever been to Axiom Nexus_?' asked Hubcap.

'No. Does it matter?'

'_Well, let's just say that it isn't the ideal hangout. One time me and my pal, Jackpot, got caught in this transwarp accident and – _'

'Thanks, Hubcap, but I'm not interested in your life story,' said Rodimus. 'Can you arrange a transwarp to Axiom Nexus for me?'

'_I dunno...I'll see what I can do. The repair crews are irritated at me as it is. I kinda sold them some parts that didn't exactly _work_ the way they were supposed to. See, they went through the transwarp, and when they'd come back, all of their body parts were mixed up, so this little guy had this arm from a big guy and this other guy had his head, but the body of some other guy…They haven't quite forgiven me for that just yet._'

Rodimus made a mental note to never ask Hubcap for parts. 'Hubcap, get me that transwarp and I'll buy each member of my fan club _two _cans of your car wax!'

'_Well, gosh an' golly gee!'_ exclaimed Hubcap. '_Looks like a space just opened up on the next transwarp to Axiom Nexus! This is your lucky day.'_

He almost protested. Almost. He wasn't sure he wanted to trust this "communications" 'bot, but at the same time, he couldn't loose this command before he even started the job. Instead, he turned his thoughts to Axiom Nexus and his absent team. They were going to pay for this insubordination.

* * *

The static skyscrapers of Axiom Nexus just managed to touch the sulphur clouds. The undersides of the ships passed over the heads of hundreds of thousands of pedestrians wandering the streets. The impressive plazas were overcome with the voices of the crowd, the constant noise overwhelming the train of thought. It was another day full of tourists taking advantage of the good weather in order to do their business and then be on their way. It was the perfect day to meander.

But not for Springer.

Springer burst from an alleyway, knocking shoulders with a merchant bargaining with a customer. The merchandise went flying. Springer had somehow ended up in a constricted, but overcrowded side street. He mowed down any pedestrian caught in his path, a smirk playing at his features. Seconds after he emerged, Ironhide and Brawn followed and tripped over the fallen merchant. The moment they spotted Springer, they tore after him at a speed that rivalled the racers at the Iacon 5000. Brawn leapt, grabbing Springer's legs and pulling him to the pavement. Ironhide was on top of the Wrecker shortly thereafter.

Springer was too determined to get away for them to keep him down. Springer casually kicked Brawn. He went flying and crashed into a stand, sending helmets flying. When he managed to pull himself out of the wreckage, Ironhide had also been forced off. Springer had disappeared.

'This is ridiculous!' Brawn came parallel to Ironhide and they resumed their chase.

'Does this guy even feel pain? !' asked Ironhide.

'I'll _make_ 'im feel pain if I have to!'

Brawn scooped up a helmet that had rolled off one of the stands. He threw it. It hit Springer in the back of the head. Springer swerved around the next corner.

'Cut him off!' Brawn indicated an alley. Ironhide transformed and drove into it, while Brawn kept on Springer's tail.

The next street. Brawn peered around frantically, momentarily thinking that Springer had evaded them. But a battle cry and the sounds of a fight drew him to the right spot. Ironhide had come out of the alley. Brawn pulled the Wrecker into a headlock. Springer elbowed him, grabbed his fists, and threw him at Ironhide. Ironhide and Brawn slammed into each other.

'Get OFF!' Brawn shoved Ironhide away.

Brawn transformed without thinking and ploughed his way through the crowd, frustrated by the lack of progress they were making. No, he wasn't about to get the better of him.

He didn't have to go far to track him down. An excess of crowd blocked Springer's path. He was looking around for means of escape. He spotted a deserted side street and flew down it. Right at the entrance, Brawn transformed and hurtled after him, followed by Ironhide. He wasn't sure what happened, but he collided with someone who wasn't Springer.

'What on – ?' the stranger began.

BANG.

Springer made a dramatic leap for the entrance, pushing through Brawn and Ironhide in the process, which was the equivalent of being hit with a car.

Brawn vaguely spotted Springer passing close by and reached out to grab him. He missed. Instead, he snatched someone else's ankle. Instinctively he tossed them over and pinned the stranger to the ground. The stranger also reacted. He kicked Brawn in the knee, delivered a swift uppercut to the chin, and backed away, wielding…a bow. Brawn had to do a double take before he could take in the appearance of the newcomer. An impressive Autobot. Young. Every inch of his chassis screamed "Academy."

'Hot Rod!' Ironhide leapt to his feet. 'What're ya doin' here? !'

Hot Rod? Oh _no_.

'I am LOOKING for my AWOL team!' Rodimus Minor answered. '_I'm_ the one who should be asking what _you're_ doing _here_!'

'We're not AWOL!' protested Ironhide. 'We were gonna come right back!'

'You could've notified me before you took off!' snapped Rodimus. 'I had to get Hubcap to trace your energy signatures! I've been looking for you for hours! You would mind telling me what the slag you are doing? !'

'Uh – well, Brawn wanted t' go find Springer,' explained Ironhide. 'We really were gonna come right back, honest!'

'And you're Brawn?' Rodimus looked down at Brawn.

'You know it,' Brawn scrutinized the 'bot. '_You're_ Rodimus Minor?'

'Yes.'

'…What in blaze's are they thinking? !' exclaimed Brawn. 'How old are you? You can't possibly be old enough to get a command!'

'_I'm_ old enough to know better than to run off without authorization!' retorted Rodimus.

'Don't get smart, kid!'

'I'm not trying to be smart, and I'm trying to be reasonable, which you are anything _but_!'

'Uh, guys,' Ironhide intervened. 'Hate to interrupt here, but…_Springer_?'

Immediately, hateful thoughts directed at Rodimus slipped away. They were redirected at Springer, who'd long since vacated the area. The three of them hurried to the main road. Although they couldn't see Springer, they could certainly hear him shoving through the helpless aliens that littered the streets.

Brawn prepared to dive into the crowd, with or without his so-called "team."

'What is going on here? !' Rodimus demanded.

'No time to explain!' said Ironhide. 'But we have to catch Springer before he gets away!'

Rodimus looked hesitant. But resolute. He gathered himself, transformed, and led the charge through the crowd, towards the sound of Springer's noisy retreat.

* * *

Rodimus and Brawn ducked as Ironhide flew just over their heads. He peered up fervently at Springer's figure from the other end of the street. His bow armed, he took a few good shots at him, aiming for the optics. With surprising grace Springer plucked the arrows from thin air and threw them right back at them. A massive force toppled Rodimus, one the arrows having lodged in his shoulder.

Springer turned his back on their location and started to walk away, but Brawn hadn't yet given up. Grabbing the nearest piece of debris, he threw it. The Wrecker swung his sword and cut it in half.

In the aftermath, Ironhide stumbled out of the building he'd been thrown into, shaken, but obviously unharmed. Rodimus ripped the arrow out of his shoulder.

'C'mon!' urged Brawn. 'We're loosing him!'

'Don't need to tell me,' Rodimus struggled to his feet.

Brawn and Ironhide rushed ahead, leaving Rodimus in the dust. He hadn't gone far when something small and circular rolled out of the sidelines and hit his foot. He stopped to stare at it inquisitively.

Instinct took over. Rodimus spotted a merchant's stand that had been demolished in the fight. The vendor – a Cybertronian shielded by a ragged brown cloak – was struggling onto his feet. The items he'd been selling were scattered all over the street. Rodimus glanced ahead to see that Brawn and Ironhide were covering Springer. Stopping for a nanoklik wouldn't hurt.

'Are you alright?' Rodimus asked. He went over and helped the Cybertronian up, suppressing the disgust he felt at the sight of the old timer's gnarled fingers and exposed circuitry.

'Fine,' the vendor hissed.

'Sorry about your stand.'

Rodimus bent down and picked up one of the devices. Most of them were destroyed, but he chose one of the few that were in tact. It was circular and fit in the palm of his servo, with a single, massive blue button that flashed periodically.

'What are these things?' inquired Rodimus, unable to hold back his curiosity.

'Transportation devices,' said the merchant. 'Very advanced.'

'Are they Cybertronian?'

'Yes.'

'…That's odd; we don't have anything like _this_ on Cybertron…'

'Of course you don't,' the merchant murmured. 'Not yet, anyways…'

'What exactly do these things do?'

'They transport the user to anywhere they want to go in an instant. Unfortunately, it's a one-way trip, but they're useful for a quick escape.'

'_Anywhere_?'

'Yes. You just have to program the coordinates in. If you don't, who knows where you'd end up.'

The merchant reached out with a finger and tapped the button. A holographic screen jumped up, showing where one could punch in a series of numbers.

'…Do you mind if I have this?' asked Rodimus.

'At what price?'

'I can get rid of that big green Autobot who destroyed your stand.'

'…Deal.'

He briefly thanked the mysterious vendor and chased after his team. They'd gotten a good ways ahead of them, but he merely had to follow the explosions to track them down in Axiom Nexus's labyrinth. He hurried up a constricted staircase, saw a flash of yellow, and then Ironhide hit the wall ahead before spotting Springer again.

Rodimus sprinted ahead of the others. He came out on a narrow bridge teetering over a dark abyss. Springer was out in the middle. The Wrecker wheeled around and caught him. Springer slammed Rodimus's head onto the ground. He struggled. Springer pinned him down. Twisting, Rodimus shoved his fingers into Springer's optics. This forced him to stumble back, biding Rodimus the time to get back to his feet, teetering on the very edge of the bridge. A gust of wind hit his face as he peered over the rim. One thing was certain: this was the stupidest place to fight it out.

Springer didn't seem to care. He was on his feet, purple energon leaking out of the side of his mouth. Obviously he didn't care who he was fighting, as long as he inflicted as much pain as possible on the competitor. And right now Rodimus was that competitor.

Just as Springer raised his fist, Rodimus spotted his bow balancing just over the edge.

This was unacceptable. Rodimus tilted his head just enough to avoid Springer's fist. In nanokliks, Rodimus had sprinted across the roof and snatched his bow. He was just turning when Springer collided with him.

They both tumbled over.

Rodimus rotated in mid-air, blindly reaching out for something to grab hold of. Instead, a servo grabbed his arm and broke his fall. He braced his feet against the bridge, looking down at the blackness, wind ripping around his chassis. Then he looked up at Springer, holding onto the bridge by his fingertips.

In one heave, Springer tossed Rodimus back up. Rodimus skidded and readied his bow, but it wasn't necessary. Springer crawled up after. He collapsed beside him.

For a few seconds, they eyed each other. Neither moved. Neither seemed sure of what to do. Until Springer came at him again. Rodimus could hardly believe this guy. One minute saving his life, the next trying to kill him.

He didn't get the time. Brawn and Ironhide appeared out of no where and tackled Springer to the ground. While Springer easily threw Brawn off, getting Ironhide off took effort. Ironhide had just activated his metal coating, easily restraining him. But, with a heave, a grunt, and a final push, Ironhide rolled over and Springer leapt to his feet. The other two made to go after him.

Bright, white light flashed horizontally at them. Rodimus was hit with a rush of wind. He shielded his optics to see a pair of hovercrafts descending.

'_You are in violation of the law_,' a mechanical, deadpan voice announced. '_Drop your weapons and surrender._'

'Who the hell are these guys? !' Rodimus demanded.

'Dunno,' Brawn admitted. 'But I'll show them what I think of their slagging laws!'

With ease, Brawn snapped off the bridge's railing and slammed it into the side of the first ship, then the other. Rodimus shielded his eyes from the abundant flash of red, followed by an explosion and a shockwave that nearly swept him off his feet.

'…You didn't have to do that, you know,' Rodimus said.

'Actually, I found that pretty satisfying,' Brawn grinned darkly.

They turned to see Springer, having retreated while they'd been distracted. He glanced back a final time before disappearing into the street opposite of the bridge. Brawn made to resume their pursuit.

Rodimus held out an arm.

'Wait, wait, wait,' Rodimus said. 'I think we're approaching this the wrong way.'

'If you want to try and reason with Springer, that ain't happening,' Brawn snapped. 'Springer doesn't "reason;" he sees something and he smashes it!'

'I wasn't suggesting we reason!' Rodimus rebuked. 'Look, it's pretty clear at this point that force isn't going to get us anywhere. We can't stop Springer that way….We're going to have to trick him into coming back with us.'

'And how do you suggest we do that? !' demanded Brawn.

'With this,' Rodimus raised up the device he'd plucked from the merchant's stand.

'…Don't tell me you fell for one of those tourists traps!'

'Hear me out,' said Rodimus. 'The guy I took this from said it will instantly transport you to anywhere you want to go, but it's a one-way trip. Say I were to program this thing to take us back to Athenia into the brig in our headquarters. If we could transport Springer into a cell and seal it off, I can assure you that he _will_ stay put. I was just there this morning; those cells could contain a supernova!'

Brawn considered this. 'What if this thing doesn't work?'

'Then we'll think of something else.'

'What if it transports us straight into the heart of a black hole or something?'

'We'll have to hope that doesn't happen. What have we got to loose?'

'Our _lives_?'

'It'll work. I'm sure of it!'

'I got your back, Hot Rod,' said Ironhide.

'Sorry, Brawn, you're outvoted,' Rodimus chuckled. 'Right. We'll have to lure Springer into a tight corner. Then we'll tackle him all at once. I'll activate this thing and we'll be back on Athenia in record time!'

'Great, and who exactly is gonna "lure" Springer into this failsafe trap of yours? !' demanded Brawn.

Rodimus smirked.

* * *

Brawn waited until Springer was in sight before he transformed back to robot mode. He would've liked to know how he'd gotten talked into this, though he vaguely recalled that it involved a few threats. But he was in too deep now to back out, for Springer's optics had homed in on him. They were at a stand-off. There was nothing between them but the deserted road and there was only one way to go.

'Why am I doing this?' Brawn grumbled. 'Hey, Springer! Why you runnin' from a fight? !'

'_Running_?' repeated Springer. 'I ain't running! I just want to make it clear that I ain't goin' – '

'Oh, _sure_!' Brawn laughed. 'That's jus' an excuse! You just don't think you can beat us, so you're runnin' instead of facing us! Do'ya got a yellow backbone infrastructure or _what_? !'

The accusation had the desired effect.

The ground trembled violently as Springer stampeded towards him. Brawn transformed and floored it, Springer just missing him by mere inches.

He led Springer through the streets, narrowly avoiding the random pedestrian and going deeper into parts unknown. The landscape began to blend in with each other, but Brawn forced himself to focus, to recall the path the team had agreed to lead Springer on. He felt the bulk of the Wrecker behind him, determined to run down his prey at force. Once angered, Springer's first reaction was to attack, not to think straight and realize that this was a trap. By manipulating his core programming, they could win this, Brawn was sure.

At last Brawn spotted Rodimus just ducking out of sight, hiding. He turned the final corner into an alley they'd carefully selected out for their ambush. When the time was right, he hit his breaks and made a sharp, ninety-degree turn into the place where Rodimus and Ironhide were lying in weight. For Springer, in vehicle mode, it was too late to stop.

Springer transformed and skidded to a halt, just barely managing to avoid crashing into the dead end. When he spun around, Rodimus had given the signal and the three Autobots emerged from their hiding spots, effectively blocking the only escape route. Although if they didn't work fast, Springer would easily crash through them, and he wouldn't care who got hurt in the process. In a flash the three rushed forwards, Rodimus trading in his bow for the transportation device he'd swiped off the merchant.  
The three of them slammed into Springer at the same time. Rodimus squeezed the device.

They were violently tugged forwards. The skyscrapers contorted and melted into solid metal walls. For a brief nanoklik Rodimus wasn't capable of movement. Everything seemed to blend in together.

In a snap, everything abruptly sped up. They slammed into the ground, with Rodimus landing right on top of Springer. They were back in the brig of their headquarters. Springer struggled valiantly underneath them. Ironhide activated his signature alloy, pinning him, while the Wrecker continued to thrash.

'What happened? !'

'I saved us, that's what! His sword! GET HIS SWORD!'

'Got it!'

'I got his blasters!'

'Okay, on my mark, we let him up. Ready? Mark!'

Rodimus, Ironhide, and Brawn simultaneously jumped off of Springer and rushed past the brig's barrier. He slammed his fist on the controls. The barrier went up just as Springer hit it. Electricity danced around his chassis.

He fell back, smoking.

The three of them panted heavily. Relief, combined by shock, silenced everyone for an agonizingly long period of time.

'Why t' go, Hot Rod!' Ironhide laughed nervously. 'That was _really_ cool!'

'That was cool, wasn't it?' grinned Rodimus.

'No need to be modest, of course,' said Brawn. He shouldered Springer's sword. 'Can I keep this?'

'NO!' Springer shouted from the cell. 'Hey, let me out of here, or I'll – '

'Oh, _shut up_, already,' Rodimus snapped. 'Ironhide, guard him. If he causes any trouble, sit on his head.'

'Gladly,' Ironhide rubbed his fists together.

Springer trembled in anger and threw himself against the barrier, only to receive a second shock. He narrowed his optics and fixated Rodimus with an expression of displeasure, an expression Rodimus had a feeling he usually reserved for Decepticons he was going to kill with his bare servos.

-

Rodimus stretched out his sore shoulder, still feeling the burning after effects of getting hit with his own arrow. He'd forgotten about how painful it was to be struck with them. But it was his own brainchild. He'd specifically designed them to leave his targets weakened, though it had had little effect on Springer.

He was just glad that Axiom Nexus was behind him and he had no plans to return there any time soon. Instead, he'd returned to the government-owned complex where he and his team were stationed, a building close by the Space Bridge. Here was where all official business in relation to Athenia politics was done _legally_. Here all the government employees would be safe from the merciless locals. Here was where the HQ for Rodimus's security detail was located, which is where he was just outside now.

He didn't see anything special about it. The common room was empty aside from the standard supplies. Couch, holographic television, desk; the usual. There were a few connecting rooms, including a training room, medical bay, and Rodimus's office. A garage door provided them with direct access to the Space Bridge. It was small by Elite Guard standards, but it would do. He would have to make the best of it, along with Springer, who had already made it clear that this was peanuts in comparison to what the Wreckers were equipped with. When Rodimus tried to ask what he meant, Springer changed the subject.

After Rodimus, Ironhide, and Brawn had successfully managed to take Springer into custody, they'd left him in the brig to cool off. He had. After two solar cycles of violent protest, he'd negotiated with them and agreed not to make an escape attempt. Rodimus had spoken with Springer's parochial parole officer. Together they bargained with the officials back on Cybertron. Rodimus advocated for Springer, despite everything; he was doing it mainly because Brawn had asked him to, and it ended on a few simple terms. Springer remained under Rodimus's direct supervision. He couldn't leave Athenia without his authorization. An official government representative would visit once every fifty megacycles to make sure Springer hadn't skipped town. The government didn't release warrants for the remaining Wreckers. Simple as that.

Left with little choice, Springer had taken the deal. If Springer went to the stockades, he could break out. But if the names of all the other Wreckers were released…well, that would completely fry all their surveillance missions from what Rodimus could comprehend. For now, Springer was cornered. He'd have to work with the team under the pretense that he didn't want any trouble, but Rodimus and Brawn had already shown that they didn't trust him in the least.

On que, Brawn came in from the training room. Behind him were the sounds of someone beating up a dummy. He was limping slightly.

'Springer?' asked Rodimus.

'Springer,' Brawn confirmed.

Rodimus headed into the training room. He glanced out the one-way windows, which looked out onto the Space Bridge nearby. Then over the ring, waiting to be used for the first time. Then over at a row of dummies parallel to a wall. One of the dummies wobbled on its stand. There was no sign of Springer.

'Springer?' Rodimus called. 'Hey, Springer? You in here?'

When there was no response, Rodimus walked up to the dummy and examined the room from a new angle. There wasn't any sign of Springer.

He was about to call his name again, when a shadow appeared out of the corner of his optics. Rodimus drew out his bow. Fruitlessly, he attempted to shove it into Springer's face. Somehow Springer seemed to pass right through it and tackled Rodimus to the ground.

'DO YOU MIND? !' Rodimus yelled, trapped underneath Springer's bulk.

'Not really,' Springer leaned on his hand. 'So, how's this command going for you?'

'It'd feel better if you got off me!'

'Why? I just wanted to show you how it feels.'

'OFF!'

'Okay, okay, don't get yer fan belt in a knot,' Springer rolled onto his feet.

Rodimus struggled upright, rubbing his back. 'I feel like a building fell on me…'

'Get used to it,' snapped Springer. 'I'm not about to forgive you for bringing me here.'

'I _had_ to, Springer!' Rodimus retorted. 'Don't blame me for your problems! Cybertron Command only gave you this assignment so they could keep an optical sensor on you! You should be thanking me!'

'Thanks, I don't need help,' said Springer.

Springer marched over to the dummy. He punched it. Rodimus observed him from a safe distance before he dared to continue the conversation.

'How are your quarters?' Rodimus asked.

'Big,' he replied. 'Back on the Xantium I had to share with my second-in-command. It'll take a while to get used to not having a room mate.'

'Does this mean your escape attempts are over?'

'Don't get yer hopes up.'

'Never mind; I shouldn't have asked,' Rodimus managed a hollow laugh. He watched Springer continue to pulverize the dummy. Rodimus cleared his throat. 'Who were those guys at Axiom Nexus? The ones who tried to stop us?'

'TransTechs,' said Springer.

'Who?'

'Don't ask. I don't know who they are. No one seems to know who they are. The mercenaries they hire don't even know who they are. But they pay well enough, so asking questions isn't part of the job requirement. Besides…' Springer grinned, peering at Rodimus out of the corner of his optic, 'anyone who's ever asked a question has mysteriously disappeared or gone offline. All the Wreckers know is that the Techs run Axiom Nexus and they earn a fortune off the touristy stuff.'

'Are they on our side?'

'They don't recognize factions. Yeah, if we were in trouble, I doubt they'd care, but on the other hand, they won't try t' kill us.'

'That's strange.'

'They're TransTechs. Everything about them is strange. To what strange thing are you referring to?'

'They don't have a faction,' said Rodimus. 'I find it strange, anyways. Almost every Cybertronian ever onlined has a faction.'

'First time for everything.'

Rodimus paused. 'What about the Wreckers?'

'We're Autobots, if that's what you mean.'

'But they operate outside of the law.'

'True,' Springer grinned. 'That's what makes us Autobots.'

'You operate outside of the law, so that makes you an Autobot?'

'That makes us _true_ Autobots. Any Cybertronian who's actually gone out there an' fought a Decepticon is a _real_ Autobot, that's what.'

'That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.'

'Oh? Because it's true?'

'No, because it's deluded. Not all of us are going to get that opportunity and none of us should have to.'

'The Wreckers are all about "that opportunity." What was that?'

'…What was what?'

'You rolled your optics at me!'

'Did not.'

'Did too!'

'I did not!' Rodimus folded his arms. 'Sensitive, much?'

'I am not!'

'Look, let's agree to disagree or we'll both know how this will end,' said Rodimus. 'Agreed?'

Springer grumbled. 'Fine.'

Springer proceeded to punch the dummy, over and over again, until both it and his fists were a blur. He stopped. Springer kicked its torso, and it flew into the wall. Springer looked at its mangled corpse, then moved onto the next dummy.

'I still think it's absurd,' murmured Rodimus.

'Ya mind? !' Springer rounded on him. 'The Wreckers seem to be the only Autobots out there who are doing something about the Decepticons!'

'That isn't true. What about the Elite Guard?'

'You mean the guys who screen everyone who join them, to the point where they disregard individual thought and approaches to battle?' he inquired. 'They can't afford to be choosy about who joins them at a time like this.'

'I've heard the same thing about the Wreckers.'

'We let in anybody who can take a beating, who can take the stress, and who can take _anything_ thrown at them!' Springer marked off his fingers. 'Y'know, 'bots who want to change things! Not all of us are soldiers, you know. Our only requirement is that each member has to make himself useful in some way by putting his talents to good use. Even when the government declared that we were officially disbanded, the Wreckers still went on! When Impactor Major and most of us died in the war, we almost didn't make it out. I worked my aft off to keep it going. I have a hard enough time keeping us together when the Elite Guard is chasing us all around the galaxy saying we're traitors! We're fighting the same enemy, but they say that _we're_ the outlaws because we don't play by their rules!'

'Well, you better get used to it, Springer,' said Rodimus. 'Around here, we play by those rules and I'm not going to stand idly by and let someone bend them. If this is going to be routine with you, you can spend the duration of this assignment _in the brig_.'

'Sounds preferable.'

'With Brawn as your guard.'

'Now that's abuse!'

'In comparison to what you've been doing?' Rodimus retorted. 'Bottom line: while you're here, _you_ have to stay out of trouble.'

'Is that a suggestion?'

'It's an order.'

'I don't take orders from Academy 'bots.'

Springer marched vehemently to the door. Rodimus gawked at him and then chased him to the common room.

'You can't talk to me like that!' yelled Rodimus.

'I just did,' Springer paused at the door, gave him a _very_ sarcastic salute and stepped out. 'Later.'

'Get back here!'

'Bye!'

Rodimus only pursued him to the door. When he looked out, Springer had already transformed and disappeared. Steaming, Rodimus turned back into the common room. For the first time he noticed Brawn sitting on the couch, staring at him rather expectantly. Rodimus stared back.

'Why doesn't he do what I say?' Rodimus asked, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he felt.'Do I look like I have the answers?' retorted Brawn.

Rodimus glared.

'Look, he's a Wrecker!' Brawn shrugged. 'He's not used to other 'bots tellin' him what to do. Not to mention he _led_ the Wreckers, which makes him _especially_ not good at takin' orders. If you wanna impress him, you gotta let yer fists do the talkin' for you. Don't be afraid t' be mean to Springer; he can handle it.'

'You think this is going to be routine?'

'This is Athenia. Nothing around here is routine, Hot Rod.'

'_Rodimus_!'

'_Hot Rod_.'

Brawn flicked on the television. Defeated, Rodimus headed into his office, vacant of any personal possessions. It wasn't glamorous. It wasn't Iacon City. But this was his assignment. Kup had been able to handle worse situations. And if Kup could handle it, so could Rodimus. After all, once the medic arrived, this detail would be complete and they could get down to business. Rodimus couldn't afford to hang onto the rules laid down by Cybertron Command. If he was going to be a commander on this outpost, he'd have to be a little more creative when it came to discipline.


	6. Eviction Notice

**Eviction Notice**

'Red Alert, you're making this difficult.'

'Good!' Red Alert shouted. 'I hope I make it even more difficult! We both know that I belong here!'

'That is not your decision,' said Ultra Magnus.

'You _swore_ that I would become the head of the Central Infirmary!'

'I said you _could_. I didn't say you _would_. That was not my decision in the first place.'

'But it _was_ denied!'

'Yes.'

'He did this, didn't he?' Red Alert demanded. '_Sentinel_ wrote a report that pointed out all of my flaws and none of my better qualities!'

'Sentinel brought some issues to my attention.' Ultra Magnus sat on the edge of his desk, now speaking to her as a friend, not a commander. 'I was telling the truth when I said that it wasn't precisely how I pictured resolving the matter.'

'What "matter? !" There is no "matter!" There's just Sentinel and his dumb report!'

'Red Alert, you know that this isn't just about Sentinel's report. It's about all the other ones, as well. You're a good doctor, Red Alert, and a lot of Autobots in this facility trust you. But the recent incident highlighted some character flaws, qualities I don't believe belong anywhere near the High Council or the Central Infirmary. What I think you need is to work in a different environment and learn to…_appreciate_…the vastness of the Autobot Commonwealth. A different environment means different Autobots to work with, which means a different experience. Yes, in order to nurture your growth as a doctor, I think that's what you need right about now.'

'This is complete injustice! It's like sending Perceptor to the far flung corners of the galaxy! You need him here! You need me here! I've worked for stellar cycles to get into this position, and it's gonna take one transfer to reverse centuries of hard work on my behalf!'

'Red Alert, you will still maintain your current position,' Ultra Magnus pressed. 'It will just be a "long distance relationship."'

'I'd be much more effective if I was stationed here!'

'You're stationed at Athenia. It's final.'

'But it's a step back!'

'Then perhaps it will give you a fresh perspective.'

'But – '

'Red Alert, your transfer papers are written up, your new commander has been notified, you've been assigned quarters, _and_ you're scheduled to take the transport ship to Athenia in two days at 1600 hours. Everything has been arranged.'

'Then how come I only just learned about it? !'

'Because I _knew_ this is how you would react.'

'I demand that – '

'This is beginning to get repetitive. Sentinel and I agree that you should be transferred. Wheeljack and Perceptor don't need any more distractions anyways.'

'Distractions? !'

'Red Alert, you have a choice to make. A transfer or time in the stockades. Is that what you want?'

She was tempted to say "yes." The stockades sounded charming in comparison to Athenia. But Ultra Magnus seemed bent on not listening to her. He'd hardly listened to her explanation on what had happened. Nobody had with the exception of Wheeljack and Perceptor.

'But…But…' she stammered.

'This conversation is over.' Two Autotroopers appeared by her side. 'They will escort you out.'

Red Alert clenched her fists. 'No need. I know the way.'

Clamping her mouth shut, she marched out of the office. Still, she sensed one of the guards tailing her, back through the security checkpoints until she managed to get to the vacant hallway. Red Alerts stocked off to the nearest elevator. Once there, she punched the elevator's button. When it didn't light up to acknowledge her presence, she punched it repeatedly. Red Alert tossed herself inside, leaned against the wall, and rubbed her optics. The elevator jerked downwards.

'Final? !' she repeated Ultra Magnus's words. '_Final_? ! I'll show him final! I'll go right back up there, look him right in the optic, and – '

The elevator door opened. Red Alert recomposed herself and stepped out into the crowded hallway. She didn't stop to chat or to acknowledge the occasional greeting. She headed for the laboratory. Steaming, obviously. Perhaps she had that look in her eyes that betrayed she was going for energon. She already knew how the guys were going to react. Perceptor was armed with logic. Wheeljack armed with a destructive sense of humour. No doubt as an act of vengeance Wheeljack would suggest placing a smoke bomb in Ultra Magnus's office; he'd done that once before with rather amusing results. But it wouldn't make her feel any better.

Now just outside the laboratory, Red Alert paused right outside the door. No, she'd made up her mind. She was not going to let this bother her. So what if her life was officially ruined? She was a mature, even-tempered femme who could tackle any problem thrown at her by Cybertron Command. If Ultra Magnus wanted her to be assigned to Athenia, she was going to accept that.

BANG.

Smoke poured into the hallway. All previous thought of restraint immediately left her.

'WHEELJACK!' Red Alert yelled. 'What did I tell you about BOMBS? !'

Red Alert ducked into the room, though this immediately proved to be a bad idea. Lost in the cloud of smoke, she wandered around aimlessly, trying to remember where everything was. But it was getting blown up so much that it was a near-constant renovation.

The smoke billowed around her. Red Alert thought she saw the glint of blue armour. One word popped into her mind. "Jerk."

'HI-YAH!' Red Alert aimed to punch the intruder.

Wheeljack grabbed her fist. 'What's the big idea? !'

She looked at him, up and down. His entire chassis had been dyed the same shade of blue as Sentinel's armour.

'Oh,' Red Alert sneered. 'I thought you were that low life, Sentinel Chin.'

'It is advisable that you cease to refer to Sentinel Prime by such an alias,' Perceptor's voice rang out from somewhere else in the lab.

'Lighten _up_, Percy.' The smoke was being cleared out by Wheeljack, blowing it into the vents with a handheld fan.

'Furthermore, it is advisable that you cease to refer to me as "Percy,"' corrected Perceptor. 'My name is "Perceptor."'

'Yeah, yeah,' Wheeljack waved at him vaguely. 'So…you thought I was Sentinel Prime, huh?'

'I'm almost sorry you weren't,' she rolled her eyes. 'Ever since he came in here to terrorize us – '

'He was doing a routine inspection of our facilities,' translated Perceptor.

'And when _I_ didn't drool over him like everyone else, he decided that I was "incompetent." It wasn't a routine inspection, it was a routine insult.'

'You referred to him by other impertinent aliases which would be inappropriate to repeat.'

'WOOHOO!' Wheeljack shouted. He held up the disembodied head of a drone. 'IT BLEW OFF HIS HEAD!'

He giggled rather maniacally and scurried off.

Their laboratory was now relatively free of smoke. It was circular in shape, with a dome ceiling that displayed all of the data against a chrome blue screen. Right now Red Alert spotted diagrams that resembled the drone that had been the source of the explosion. The center of the room was a level lower than where she was presently, where the larger equipment was located. And where the blast site was located. Wheeljack was currently sifting through the wreckage.

'I guess those new bombs didn't work out,' deduced Red Alert. She turned to Perceptor. 'I told you so.'

'I needn't remind you that it was not my idea,' said Perceptor.

'Temporal mechanics and explosives do not mix.'

'Agreed.'

'You gotta admit it was a cool idea,' said Wheeljack.

'In theory,' Perceptor nodded. 'However, not in practice.'

'_Relax_! It's not like we got Project Omega right the first time! Just think! If we get this right, we can actually learn to manipulate the space-time continuum!'

'Nothing ever goes right with time travel,' pointed out Red Alert. 'It's just best to avoid it, if you ask me. Why Cybertron Command even WANTS to time travel is beyond my understanding. There's too many things that could go wrong.'

'Ah, ha!' Wheeljack pointed at her dramatically. '_But _they've never had us working on it before! And we're the best!'

'Well, I'm sure you two will make plenty of progress.'

He sighed. 'I guess your meeting with Ultra Magnus didn't go well.'

'That is a complete understatement,' Red Alert glanced towards to her usual station. There was a group of empty boxes there. She'd gone to Ultra Magnus's office, expecting to come back and clear these out. 'He didn't even listen to me!'

'You know Ultra Magnus,' said Wheeljack. 'Once he makes up his mind about something, there's no stopping him.'

'_Perceptor_ could stop him,' Red Alert cast a glare in the scientist's direction, 'if he'd decided to vouch for me.'

'I was not inclined do so,' Perceptor stated.

'Well, if you _had_, maybe I'd be the head of Central Infirmary right now!'

'But you are not. You are far too emotional to be considered for such a position, anyways.'

Red Alert rubbed her optics. 'Not this argument again.'

'Emotions are the explicit cause for all of the Autobots' major conflicts to begin with,' asserted Perceptor. He circled the laboratory, in full "logic" mode. 'The Autobots require capable leaders who are able to separate their emotions from their responsibilities. Thus, politics become less complex, the risk of offence is decreased, and – in conclusion – there would be no more official wars. Society would be divided into a diplomatic, uncomplicated social structure with minimal risk of violence with other cultures. Red Alert, your irritability would – perhaps – make you ostracized by other employees at the Central Infirmary. I did not believe that you were suitable for the position, and so I made the decision not to "vouch" for you.'

Both Wheeljack and Red Alert started to applaud.

'Way t' go, Perceptor!' Wheeljack called. 'Master of Reason! King of Common Sense! Lord of Logic!'

'I'm irritable, am I?' frowned Red Alert.

'Correct,' Perceptor confirmed. 'You have an apparent inability to rationalize, except for when you are treating a patient.'

'And that doesn't count for anything?'

'No. Your bedside manner leaves something to be desired, quite frankly.'

'And how would YOU know all this? You don't have any emotions.'

'You forget that I am quite observant.'

'Observant enough to _realize_ that this is the sole most important thing IN MY LIFE?'

'Take it easy, Alert,' intervened Wheeljack. At least, he tried to intervene, because Red Alert decided to ignore him. She grabbed the nearest thing – which in this case happened to be a glass container – and threw it in Perceptor's general direction. The scientist calmly sidestepped it.

'I worked my aft off in the Great War, and this is what I get? !' she shouted.

'I am detecting an emotional response,' remarked Perceptor.

'I get assigned to some far-off colony even _I've_ never heard of and I'm told that I'm too much of a "distraction" for you two? !' Red Alert continued. 'What about all the sacrifices I've made? ! I gave up a perfectly stable civilian practice to become a _field medic_! I had to work from scratch to get to this position! I've been working to become the chief of the Central Infirmary for years! All that! Down the drain! It simply isn't fair!'

She was surprised when neither of them spoke, not even Perceptor with some other logical statement.

'_This_ is it,' Red Alert turned to her audience. 'This is how our trio breaks up? This is how it all ends? You two get to stay here and work on classified projects, while I have to treat some Athenian for a bad case of rust? ! Does that sound like something a doctor of my standards should be doing? !'

'So what you're basically saying is that you're too good for Athenia?' guessed Wheeljack.

'Of course I'm too good for Athenia!'

'Well, I can see you're as modest as ever…'

Red Alert folded her arms.

'You're pouting,' sang Wheeljack.

'I not pouting!' she protested.

'Look, Alert, maybe it won't be so bad,' Wheeljack dared to put a servo on her shoulder. 'I mean…we won't be together, sure, but it's not like we're not gonna work together anymore. I mean, throughout it all, Ultra Magnus _does_ respect your opinion. He knows what an asset you are to the Ministry of Science; so, seriously, I bet this reassignment thing will only last a few stellar cycles, then he'll bring you back. 'Cause he'll see things aren't really the same without you. Besides, it's true. We do need you here. We got a lot of projects we can't get done without you.'

She considered this. 'True.'

'For now, why don't you try to make the best of it?'

'I haven't worked on the field for years!' Red Alert pointed out.

'Then you'll get back in tune with your field medic instincts! Just…promise us you'll try and make the best of it.'

'…Oh, all right. I'm going to hate it, though.'

'This is a situation that a government without emotion would be able to avert,' deduced Perceptor.

'Stick it in your hard drive, Lord of Logic.'


	7. Hawkeye Prime

**Hawkeye Prime**

The laboratory melted into the weary landscape of Athenia. Red Alert stood at the edge of the colony. The chatter of the crowd was to her back, separated by a gate that barred civilians from the Space Bridge. Before her was the desolate plain in front of said Space Bridge. She couldn't see any 'bot from this distance, and right now she was trying to remember the names of her new team mates. Her current source of aggravation was the fact that she _didn't_. Oh, well. Once she settled in at her new post she'd receive their medical records. And just as she thought this, one name returned to her.

Rodimus. Rodimus Minor. Stupid name. Sounded like an Academy 'bot who played by the book. While she knew some Academy graduates went on to command security crews, and she also knew first hand that most couldn't let go of their pride. This place, Rodimus, and any other bot' she was going to meet were _completely_ below her standards. She was used to giving the Magnus follow-ups on his health. Not...Athenians. They were probably rust buckets who didn't know how to listen to a medical expert. No doubt the only other doctor around had to be ill-equipped and lacking in the proper certifications that were needed to _be_ a doctor.

It was up to her to fix this place up.

Red Alert transformed and sped off towards the orange, forked structure springing out of the earth.

The soil underneath her wheels felt unfamiliar. It was strange to be back out in the field. Red Alert had thought she'd seen the last of it when she officially went into business with Perceptor and Wheeljack. Thought that she was going to spend the rest of her days living in luxury on Cybertron. Of course, that's what _every_ 'bot hoped for. Making some sacrifice and hoping that society paid them back. Red Alert had been fortunate to receive this kind of treatment. Other Autobots? Not so fortunate. She was positive that the citizens of Athenia held a strong grudge towards the government for turning its culture inside out. Heck, she would react the same way if someone corrupted Polyhex.

But her job involved being pro-Cybertron Command. And that's what she was going to do.

She pulled up alongside the Space Bridge. Still, there wasn't anyone in sight. Frowning, Red Alert aimed for the nearest building. She ascended a flight of stairs and entered an atrium that extended straight upwards. At least this part reminded her of home.

It took her a few minutes to find their headquarters. It was on the first floor, with another exit that led straight out to the Space Bridge. It included a common room, a training room, a private laboratory, the office of her new commander, and holding cells. Again, characteristic of a security detail. But when she entered, she encountered something that was _definitely_ not routine of any ordinary security crew.

She walked straight into the common room and found two 'bots wrestling on the floor.

One was short and old, the other tall and green. The older 'bot was currently had the other in a head lock.

'GIVE ME THE REMOTE!' the old green 'bot shouted. He reached for the remote, which the other was holding just out of his reach. 'Slaggit, Springer! I got fifty credits riding on the next race at the Iacon 5000! Either you gimmie th' remote or I break your arm off!'

'I want to watch Rosanna's concert!' yelled Springer.

'Why do ya wanna watch a concert? Rosanna's just a fad!'

'She is not! Rosanna is the best singer that ever existed _and you know it_!'

'I _know_ that SHE LIPSINGS!'

'Take that back!'

'Pardon me,' Red Alert bent down. 'This _is_ the security detail's headquarters, right?'

'Got it,' the old 'bot held out his hand. 'Brawn.'

'Red Alert,' Red Alert shook it briefly.

'Guess you're the medic?'

'No, I just enjoy looking at 'bot's internal systems.'

'Funny. SPRINGER! I WANT THE REMOTE!'

'Over my offline shell!' Springer rolled over, right on top of Brawn. He held out his own servo. 'Name's Springer. Nice th' meet ya!'

'Likewise,' Red Alert said without meaning it. 'Who's the boss?'

'That's Rodimus,' Brawn's muffled voice answered. 'He's not here right now; he's probably lookin' for the cutest femme on campus.'

'He could just change the channel to Rosanna's concert,' Springer grinned stupidly.

'I don't think so!'

Leaving the mechs wrestling over the remote, Red Alert stepped right over them and headed into the open door into the laboratory.

When the door closed and the fight on the other side, Red Alert examined her new headquarters. It was quaint. Small, but quaint. Two medical berths with propped up on one side of the wall, while consoles lined all the others. In the middle of a room was a circular table that projected holographic models. At the moment it showed a Space Bridge, but Red Alert soon changed that, bringing up the medical records of her new team mates. She was surprised that none of them mentioned "cocky" or "insanity."

She decided to start by organizing her personal possessions, although in her case most of her personal objects still somehow related to her work. By the time she was finished the formally naked laboratory now had a more lived-in feel to it. Some of her chemistry experiments – packed with painstaking care in a freezer for the journey – were now sounding their chorus of bubbles. Datapads were placed on a shelf and out of immediate views. She'd activated the computer systems so that the consoles now flashed random lights on her to show that they were working. If it wasn't for the fact that she was alone and it was so small, she'd think she was back at the Ministry of Science. Red Alert had to admit that Wheeljack may have been onto something when he said that this might be an excellent opportunity to pursue projects of a personal nature. Her team didn't seem to be the prying type anyways.

She could get used to this.

* * *

Or not.

Red Alert examined the specimen of Cosmic Rust underneath the microscope. It wobbled. Automatically, she reached out and caught a glass container that had fallen off the shelf.

'Mechs,' she muttered, turning towards the door. She was used to having a little chaos in her life, but this was ridiculous.

Fearless, Red Alert marched out into the common room. The television was on, flipping between a race and Rosanna's concert, flashing lights and on. She wasn't sure what was worse; the sound of screeching tires or Rosanna's high-pitched, highly irritating voice that somehow made her famous. In front of it, Brawn and Springer were at each other's throats.

She glanced at the 'bots, then went into the next room. It was a training room. She took a look around for Rodimus, but didn't spot him right away. Approaching the window, she saw that a range had been set up in the gully between the building and the Space Bridge. Here she spotted her target, who she recognized from the medical files. Rodimus was shooting at a distant target, in the company of two 'bots. One was a giant orange mech who she recognized from the personnel files. The other was a femme.

Red Alert rolled her eyes. She'd hoped Rodimus's reputation had simply been over exaggerating about his womanizing tendencies, but evidentially she was wrong. Exiting through a side door, she headed down to the location.

'So you designed that yourself, huh?' the femme asked Rodimus, no doubt referring to the bow he clutched in his servos.

'You will find that I'm _very_ good at designing things,' said Rodimus.

'It's pretty impressive,' remarked the femme.

'Glad you noticed.'

'What else do you do in your spare time?'

'Plenty.'

'Well, I'm sure you will have _plenty_ of fun without me,' the femme stalked off. 'Goodbye.'

'I'll talk to you later!' Rodimus waved.

'Let's hope that "later" never comes!'

As soon as the femme wasn't in earshot, he grumbled and turned to his giant orange companion. 'This is the fifth time I've been rejected. I hope being away from Cybertron isn't making me loose my touch.'

'Trust me,' the mech chortled. 'You aren't. But…'

'…But what?'

'Can't'cha keep yer optics in yer head for once?'

'What do you mean?' inquired Rodimus.

'I _mean_, can ya stop falling in love with every femme you see?'

'That's ridiculous, Ironhide! I don't call in love with every femme I – ' Rodimus stopped mid-sentence, eyes fixing on Red Alert. He shoved Ironhide aside and leaned against his bow. '_Hello_, nurse! You're looking fine this beautiful orbital cycle! My name's Rodimus; I'm sure you've heard all about me.'

'My name is Red Alert,' Red Alert shoved a datapad into his servos. 'I have the unfortunate duty of being your team's medical officer.'

'Unfortunate? I'm flattered.'

'First off, those are my assignment papers, so you can report to Cybertron Command that I am officially here. I also apologize for the slight delay. There were some Autobots I had to murd – I mean, they there were some unsettled back on Cybertron that needed to be resolved before I went gallivanting around on the other side of the Commonwealth.'

'You're a doctor, right?'

'…What?'

'You're a doctor.'

'Yes.'

'Do you think you could give me a check-up?'

It had been a while since anyone had flirted with her, so it took Red Alert a few seconds to think of a reply worthy of this jerk. 'I can give you an autopsy.'

'Don't break my spark!' Rodimus placed his hand on his chestplate. 'We just met!'

'Precisely,' deadpanned Red Alert. 'Now if you excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to.'

As Red Alert headed back towards the main building, Rodimus looked after her with a forlorn expression. He rubbed his chin.

'Playing hard to get, I see,' Rodimus murmured.

'Uh, Hot Rod, I don't think she's interested…' suggested Ironhide.

'Don't be stupid,' he laughed. 'Of course she's interested! She's just the brainy type, and the brainy ones are always the hardest. Because they have the brains.'

'The brains to stay away from you,' murmured Ironhide.

'What was that?'

'I didn't say anything.'

As Rodimus contemplated his situation, there was the sudden sound of breaking glass. However, only Ironhide looked up in alarm as Springer and Brawn went crashing through the window that led into their HQ, too busy beating the heck out of each other to notice the change in scenery. Red Alert dived out of the way as they rolled down the hillside, then shook her head forlornly.


	8. Knockout Rosanna

**Knockout Rosanna**

Delicate hands moved across the work table. Spread out before her was a collection of various tools and supplies. Medical equipment. Simple tools. They'd been difficult to acquire, but worth it in the end. She relished in the fact that all this would be worth it.

She picked up the injector, took a needle-like instrument, and carefully adjusted the dosage it would deliver. She set it down and reached across the table. It was her prize possession. It represented the one thing that would change everything. The florescent lights running alongside it changed from blue to red as she cracked open the lid. Inside, metal rods held a solitary test tube in place. She held it up to her optics to examine the contents. It was a glowing, blue substance, with small white worms floating inside it.

There was a knock on her door.

'Slaggit,' she hissed. 'Just a minute!'

At a press of a button, her work desk was replaced with a collage of mirrors reflecting her Decepticon red eyes, a sight that certainly wouldn't be welcome if they found out. The knock came again.

'Hold on!' she forced herself to sound as cheerful as possible.

The room literally transformed. The lights turned on. Her room emerged. A place filled with her various posters and records, entirely pink, and with matching neon lighting that constantly changed. She looked across the room expectedly towards the windows. They displayed covert information, charts, plans, and so on. The information disappeared, replaced by her enormous windows which looked out into the stars.

Then, she let _her_ take over.

In that minute, her body changed to bright pink. Her optics were the last thing to change to blue. Standing, transfixed, in the middle of the room, Rosanna took a good look around.

There was a knock for the third time. 'Rosanna?'

'…Huh?' Rosanna blinked.

She went to the door and opened it. On the other side towered a mech.

'What took you so long?' asked the captain.

'Guess I was daydreaming,' Rosanna shrugged. 'Something wrong?'

'Yeah. The engines.'

'Oh. They're still not working?'

'Nope.'

'We're gonna have to stop at the next colony?'

'Yup.'

'You don't know what caused it?'

'Nope.'

'Aw,' Rosanna sighed. 'That sucks. We're going to be late for the concert! All those fans are counting on us to be there!'

'Well, we're _not_ going to be there. At least not until we find out what's wrong with those engines. I want you to move up to the upper decks, so you're farther away from the engines.'

'Why?'

'We think it could be sabotage. If the engine blows up, at least you have a chance of surviving on the upper decks.'

'You don't have to do that!' Rosanna laughed. 'It's just engine trouble!'

'How much do you know about engines?'

'Well, not much, I mean I've been down there before, but I'm not really the type to – '

'Precisely my point! Listen, we gotta find out if this is sabotage! You remember what happened a few years ago, don't you?'

'Of course I do, but no one was hurt then! I'm perfectly comfortable in here.'

'Then I'll post guards outside your door. I don't want you to go anywhere without a security officer with you. I recommend – '

'No, thanks,' Rosanna sang. 'I can handle myself. I'm not completely useless.'

'Are you sure – '

'I'm certain,' said Rosanna. 'Where are we going for engine repairs?'

'Limping, is more like it,' snorted the captain. 'We're _limping_ to the next nearest colony. It's called…' he checked a datapad. '_Athenia_.'

'…Don't you think we should have the security crew meet us there?' asked Rosanna.

'I don't think it's necessary,' said the captain. 'We have sufficient security on board.'

'I'd feel better if the crew stationed on Athenia were present. Y'know, just in case.'

'Are you sure?'

'Absolutely.'

'…Alright, I'll have them meet us at the shipyard,' agreed the captain. 'You're not leaving the ship, though.'

'Aw, come on!' exclaimed Rosanna. 'That's not much fun! I don't want to be stuck in here all the time!'

'Miss, you're an intergalactic superstar with sixteen platinum albums and twenty-two hit singles. Believe it or not, some Autobots have a problem with that! Since it's my job to run your personal barge, it's also my job to ensure your safety, so whether you like it or not, you're not leaving the ship! It's for your own safety.'

'Oh, you're so overprotective,' Rosanna folded her arms. 'It's a remote colony. I'll be surprised if anyone knows my name!'

* * *

'Rosanna's coming HERE?'

If there was one thing Rodimus sincerely hoped – and this time he did sincerely hope for this – was that he would never see that expression on Springer's face again. That expression of admiration and longing that he only ever got whenever someone mentioned the name of a certain galactic singing sensation. Rodimus had seen it before. He, himself, had been guilty of what he had dubbed the "Fanboy" expression.

But for the moment Rodimus had greater matters to be concerned about. The team had been together for about a month now and this was their first official assignment aside from routine patrols and he wasn't about to let Cybertron Command get the wrong impression. (Especially if he intended to get that promotion within the next year or two.) He, Springer, Brawn, and Ironhide were gathered in the common room as Rodimus had made the announcement, with Red Alert listening in from her laboratory. She vaguely glanced up as Springer exclaimed, impartial. Brawn was quick to slap his face with his palm.

'Oh, _Primus_!' Springer quivered. 'Oh, Primus! You're – you're serious? This is my dream come true! Oh, wait. Is this happening? Tell me this is happening!'

'Believe me, it's your dream and my nightmare,' grumbled Brawn.

'Unfortunately for you, Brawn, this is real,' said Rodimus. 'Rosanna's ship experienced some engine troubles about two light-years from here. They're setting course for Athenia for repairs. Our assignment is to ensure the protection of Rosanna and the ship while repair crews attend to the damage. This is no concert, but I suspect some civilians will be…excited…that she's coming here. We can expect celebration, endless cheering, and 'bots who have dyed their chassis' pink for the occasion.'

'WOOHOO!' Springer punched the air. 'I can't believe this is happening!'

'Why the slag do you like her?' demanded Brawn. 'Everyone knows she's a flake!'

'SHE – IS – NOT!' yelled Springer. 'I'll have you guys know that _I_ am a member of the Official Intergalactic Rosanna Fan Club! Therefore, as a loyal member, it's my _duty_ to get her autograph!'

'Springer,' said Rodimus, 'as much as I know you would _love_ to dye your chassis pink, so far it's doubtful that we're even going to see her. All we have to do is provide security for the docking port where her ship will be. It's unlikely that Rosanna will even leave her ship!'

'Oh…Primus!' breathed Springer. 'I…will be…_this close_…to Rosanna's _ship_! Twelve decks of Rosanna memorabilia! Imagine if I got to MEET HER! Maybe she could give me a tour! It's…a dream…come…true!'

Springer stumbled back.

Brawn looked at Rodimus incredulously. '…I think he's gonna faint.'

'Ugh, I can't believe this is…' Rodimus rubbed his optics.

'Uh, uh, right, this isn't gonna effect my duties at all,' Springer assured him. 'You'll see! I can control myself. Really, I'm going to be perfectly calm. I'll be the picture of calm. Even though I'm a huge fan and I think that – OH. Primus! Pictures! I gotta take pictures!' Springer marched into the laboratory. 'Red Alert! I need to borrow that camera!'

'Forget it!' called Red Alert.

'Wait, scratch that. I _am_ borrowing that camera!'

'Unconditionally, irrefutably, unequivocally, no – HEY!'

'We're going down to the shipyard immediately,' said Rodimus to Ironhide and Brawn. 'Rosanna's ship is due there this afternoon, but we have to start setting up perimeters before the public gets wind of this.'

'Then you shouldn't have told Springer,' Brawn indicated the laboratory.

'Oh, that reminds me,' Rodimus looked into the lab. 'You're coming with us, Red Alert.'

He spotted Springer and Red Alert, currently locked in a struggle. Springer had the camera in his hands, while Red Alert was dangling from the strap a few feet off the floor.

'NO!' Red Alert exclaimed. 'I have important work to do! And I _want my camera_!'

'I'll just borrow it for a few hours!' said Springer.

'In any case, I'm not going! I refuse to be in close proximity to that pop culture icon who has contributed nothing to the sanity of the universe! Now release my camera or, so help me, I will infect you with a _very painful virus_!'

'Springer, you don't have to take Red Alert's camera, because you're _not_ going to be at the dock to take any pictures!' Rodimus intervened.

'…What do you mean?' asked Springer. 'Oh. Primus. Am I gonna be _in_ the ship?'

'Springer, you have heard nothing I have said thus far. Ironhide, Brawn, and I will be at the shipyard to make sure nothing happens to Rosanna. I want you to stay here and hold down the fort.'

'…You're kidding.'

'Yes, Springer, I was kidding. I totally want you to suddenly jump all over Rosanna confessing your eternal love. Unfortunately, it would look bad on my record if a subordinate galloped off to the nearest star system with a celebrity.'

Springer dropped the camera – along with Red Alert. 'But – but - that isn't fair!'

'Springer, I _know_ how much you like Rosanna, but that's precisely the problem, isn't it?' Rodimus folded his arms. 'If a riot of Rosanna-fans breaks out, who's to say you won't go ahead and join them? And who's to say that _you_ might try to sneak onto her ship and take a whole bunch of snapshots? You know who they'll blame for that? _Me_. Bottom line, Springer: I don't trust you to keep your head on straight.'

'You can't do this to me!' Springer yelled. 'I've been waiting for this moment my entire life! I'm _destined_ to meet Rosanna!'

'Then you're destined to meet her on another day,' said Rodimus. '…Oh, and I don't want to see you anywhere near the shipyard. Just in case you're tempted.'

'Hot Rod…_Rodimus_, _please_, you must let me meet Rosanna! It's like – it's like telling me I can't fight Decepticons anymore! I just have to – '

'No, you don't,' Rodimus sang.

'Yes, I do,' Springer sang right back at him. 'Now let me meet Rosanna or I'll punch yer face in!'

'Hm. Threatening a senior officer. I believe that gives me some reason to discipline you.'

'Okay, pal, now you're asking for it!'

'Look, you have other things to do other than meet Rosanna.'

'Oh?' Springer sneered. 'Now you're just torturing me like this because I've broken a few rules?'

'Well, that's the way thing's roll around here, Springer,' said Rodimus. 'And - unlike the Xantium II – you're not in command here.'

Springer roared. 'This is so unfair!'

He turned his back on Rodimus and stormed out of the room without further conversation.

Rodimus let out a long sigh.

'You enjoyed that,' remarked Red Alert.

For the first time she'd taken interest in the exchange. She scrutinized Rodimus carefully from her position before the many monitors in her laboratory.

'Rights to get to pick the channel? Making subordinates do laps? Getting the biggest salary?' Rodimus grinned. 'Yup, it sure is good to be in charge.'

'Well, I'd watch Springer if I were you,' said Red Alert. 'Naturally he's going to seek out some kind of vengeance. I'm surprised he didn't hit you.'

'I'll keep that in mind,' said Rodimus. 'Hey, RA, Springer can't be there, but it _would_ look good if you were present regardless of whether or not you have combat experience…Besides…you've been locked up in your laboratory since you got here. It's hard to get to know a femme if they're too busy peering through a microscope to notice _outside_ of the lab.'

'Not interested!' Red Alert proclaimed.

'_Come on_!' Rodimus dared to enter her laboratory. Red Alert busied herself with her equipment, completely ignoring him. 'Sure, you can't throw a punch, but the team needs a face! And I bet _you_ could be that face! You could go to conferences, attend parties – '

'I'm a doctor, not a socialite,' stated Red Alert. '_You_ – Rodimus Minor, _sir_ – can stuff it. My official duties are to patch you idiots up whenever you get injured, so that's what I'm going to do. And in my spare time, I'm going to listen to civilians complain about whatever ailment they may have. And when I'm not listening to civilians complaining, I'm going to do research. Therefore, I am under no obligation to leave this building. Have a nice day.'

'…Oh, please, you don't have to sound so excited about it.'

'See you!' she waved at him.

Rodimus rolled his eyes. 'Okay, have it your way. You'll be sorry, though.'

'That is highly improbable.'

Rodimus waited, just to see if she would give in. When she didn't move he chased after the remainder of his brigade, muttering some about "femmes."

* * *

Night had fallen. Springer wished that this had been a successful day, but in truth it wasn't. What had he accomplished? Nothing. Rodimus had barred him from getting the chance to meet Rosanna. He'd prevented him from accomplishing his personal lifetime goal. Springer personally thought that Rodimus had done it on purpose just to annoy him, which was a devastating step for their relationship. Springer had hoped to build up some sort of trust with Rodimus. This was failing miserably because Rodimus was giving Springer every reason to hate him.

Springer peered up from his booth in the corner of the tavern. It was crowded, but not to the point where it felt claustrophobic. He wasn't drinking anything, but examining his surroundings. It distracted him from everything. Kind of like getting drunk without having a sip of oil.

He shouldn't be here. It wouldn't improve his situation and by the end of the night it wouldn't make him feel any better, but for the moment he didn't have anywhere else to go. His quarters were too solitary. Red Alert would no doubt be at the detail's HQ and she was never very sympathetic. Everyone else on the team was too busy handling the assignment to be concerned about him him. Springer was used to fending for himself, but in the end he'd always had backup from the Wreckers. They tended to be a social group, and the more Springer stayed here, the more isolated he felt. The more he felt like an outsider, like he was in the wrong place entirely.

In short, Springer felt like he wasn't getting any attention.

It had been weeks. It had been weeks since he'd last been in contact with the Wreckers. It was driving him to the brink of insanity; while they were running rampant on the far side of the Galactic Rim, no doubt doing something _really_ cool, Springer was helpless to do anything but sit here and hang on to the bit of news that did manage to reach him. And most of that news was second-hand, heard from a few shady characters that lurked on street corners, who would share their news for a price. Who was to say that what they said was even true? No, Springer spent most of his time dodging Rodimus. The guy seemed to have optics and audio receptors everywhere. If Springer walked into a tavern – a perfectly legal act – Rodimus would be _right behind him_ and tell him to get back to his station.

Of course, this was usually because Springer tended to walk into taverns in the middle of his shift.

But not to drink. No, Springer was much more responsible than that. He sought information. About his Wreckers and about his ship and about everything he'd been forced to abruptly abandon. He wasn't even sure that the other Wreckers knew what had happened to him. But there was a good chance they had and there was an even better chance that they were laughing their heads off because of it.

Springer didn't have the guts to hit a fellow Autobot. Well, maybe Rodimus. And maybe Brawn. But that was it. Springer may be inclined to hit Red Alert too, with her scientific mumbo-jumbo and all that.

Springer stopped himself short. Well, this tavern wasn't working.

He stood up rather quickly and was out the door before anyone could protest. In the streets he randomly selected a direction, transformed, and started driving. Maybe if he went to the shipyard and stayed out of sight he'd still be able to catch a glimpse of Rosanna.

The moment this possibility jumped into his mind, Springer latched onto the effective distraction.

He reached the shipyard within minutes. There was still a group of fans lingering about at the end of the docking port where Rosanna's ship was. Springer stuck to the shadows. He spotted Rodimus hanging around with Ironhide. Brawn was at a docking port above Rosanna's port herding away a small group of fans. And yelling at them. Loudly. Maybe missing out on this stuff wasn't such a bad thing after all.

He waited around for about an hour. Mainly he watched things unfold from a distance, but it certainly wasn't very exciting. Rodimus – obvious to Springer's presence – dealt with a few fans who managed to get across the barrier. Some fans got tired and left, but most stayed to take pictures and generally be on the look out. Most of them were wearing costumes or had Rosanna memorabilia in hand. Their efforts were in vain. Rodimus stated to them several times that Rosanna _was not_ going to emerge and sign their foreheads.

Springer was about to give up and go home when a shadow appeared in the corner of his optics.

He knew that shadow.

Springer fixated on her right away.

Rosanna!

At least, he thought it was her. She was lingering behind some cargo to the right of the ship. Dangerously close to her fans. No sooner did Springer spot her than in a flash, she was at the buildings and ducking into an alleyway. There was a sort of furtiveness about her Springer had never expected to see, but who could really blame her? With all those fans and guards a girl must want to escape from it once in a while.

Maybe he should respect her privacy and just leave her alone.

He reflected on this idea.

'Nah,' he murmured.

Springer darted after her, just as furtive as she had been. Rosanna had slipped past the corner of the building. Upon peering around the edge, he saw a dark alleyway…and the figure of Rosanna at the far end of it.

'Definitely not!' Springer quivered. He could get that autograph after all! And since she was alone…maybe he could actually talk to her and become friends!

This was a dangerous neighbourhood anyways. It'd be best to keep an optic on her.

A wide grin on his faceplate, Springer ran into the alley. Rosanna went past the next corner.

Springer reached the point where she had been.

'Rosanna?'

No luck. She's gone down a second back alley, deeper into the unknown. He just saw her slink around the next corner.

Again. He followed. He looked for her. He just spotted Rosanna's heel go down _yet another_ alley.

In pursuit, Springer rounded the next alley and ran all the way to the end. Then he came to a stop.

Nothing. He stared at the back of a building, with no further roads and no apparent way out. But this is where she had gone so she obviously had to be somewhere in the vicinity. Springer scratched his head and took a good look at his surroundings.

'You know…' a female voice sounded out of the darkness. 'It's not polite to follow a lady around.'

Springer barely had time to turn before an electric current shot through his body. He vaguely spotted a haze of Decepticon red before his optics gave out.

* * *

The next thing Springer knew - what felt like mere seconds later – he was lying flat on his back, facing what was clearly a ceiling and not outdoors like he had been. His first instinct was to get back on his feet and prepare for action, but nothing changed. He couldn't feel anything in his body. The effect of the shock vibrated though his body. While he was lying here, motionless, unable to defend himself, he could be exposed to any number of dangers.

A red light shone from somewhere nearby; he was too dazed to pinpoint where exactly.

Like that kind of danger.

While most of his senses were still subject to the effects of electrocution, his audio receptors appeared to be working perfectly, because that's when he heard the sound of nearby voices. He tilted his head just enough to bring the source of the light into view. While he couldn't make out the picture, he did see someone standing in front of it, hands on her hips.

'It was not your place to take that sort of initiative!' said a male voice on the other side of the monitor.

Springer's spark lodged in his throat. He knew that voice too well. Shockwave. Also known as the most terrifying Decepticon in existence. Not because he was robust or an excellent soldier, but because he was a master of disguise. Springer had been trying to track him down for years but so far hadn't had any luck; apparently he was undercover somewhere among the Autobots.

'I couldn't get close enough to the target!' argued the 'bot standing in front of the monitor. Springer was surprised to hear that the voice was female. Probably the same chick who politely knocked him out. 'I went with the next best thing.'

'You should have consulted me before you took action!'

'Well, there wasn't time to call you up. What were you doing when you were supposed to be monitoring transmissions, anyways? Probably partying at some Autobot get-together.'

'I'm skeptical that we will succeed with an entirely different subject,' Shockwave forcibly continued.

'It's not that different and you're looking too deeply into things. This is Springer we have here! The leader of the Wreckers! Sure, it's not exactly what we _wanted_ or _expected_, but he's a pretty powerful Autobot! He's probably even more powerful than our intended target!'

'But not politically.'

'Are you sure? Springer's created tons of controversy because of his political views. He revived the Wreckers _just_ _because_ of his political views. I think he's more useful than you give him credit for.'

'He's also emotionally unstable. The results would be unpredictable. I advise that you send him back.'

'He's not something I bought in a store; I can't just _send him back_ if I'm not satisfied! Just ask Megatron! I'm sure _he'd_ think this was a brilliant idea! You know he wouldn't want us to pass up on the opportunity to infiltrate the Wreckers! If you ask me, he's far more resourceful than our original target! Sure, we could've gotten into the government – so _what_? You're already monitoring the government's activities, so why not try to destroy their society from both ends? Springer's a lowlife – a rebel! He may not look like much now, but he has a lot of potential! He could become a very powerful player in the future! And you're telling me that we should just turn him loose? Tell me, Shockwave, are you afraid of me achieving more than you? Are you attempting to destroy my reputation and suppress any good ideas I may have? Well, I might not be as high-ranking or as well-known or as _loved_ as you, Shockwave, but I happen to know that I'm right and I also know that you know that I'm right! So, are you afraid of me succeeding? Huh? Are you afraid of a little femme like me becoming greater than you ever were?'

'How dare you speak to your superior officer that way!' Shockwave exclaimed. 'If your intellect is so impressive than why are you busy crawling around at the far end of Autobot territory? You are not in command of intelligence, Flip Sides! I am! I answer directly to Lord Megatron and you know perfectly well that if one of my agents had a capable plan, I would not squalor away, feeling shame that I had not thought of that plan! I would present it to him with pride!'

'Well, then. Maybe you could suggest my plan to Megatron.'

'Absolutely not! It is illogical!'

'Now who's being illogical? Maybe you could at least hint it?'

'No.'

'Where is Megatron hiding nowadays? Maybe I could suggest it to him myself!'

'You wouldn't dare.'

'Or we could save ourselves the trouble and just take the initiative. After all…you _are_ just being jealous, aren't you?'

Shockwave glared at her for an indefinably long period of time. Finally, he recomposed himself. 'Oh…Very well. We can use Springer, but I still advise strongly against it. It could have unforeseen consequences. I suggest you monitor his activities for the time being. Oh, and another thing…if things _do not_ go according to plan, I will not take the blame for this. When I contact Megatron I will make it clear that this was _your_ doing.'

'Fair enough. But I assure you there's…' She trailed off. She nearly lost balance for that moment and grabbed the edge of the console.

'…What is it?' demanded Shockwave, a note of panic in his voice.

'Rosanna,' Flip Sides said through gritted teeth. 'I haven't had much control over her lately.'

'How serious?'

'Serious enough. Lately I've been reverting back to Rosanna even when I don't want to.'

'Why didn't you mention this before?'

'It's none of your business!'

'You know very well it _is_ my business! If your control over her is slipping it suggests that the program's destabilizing. Once you return to Cybertron, come see me and I will run a diagnostic. For now I suggest you don't try to fight her or it will only get worse. One oversight, Flip Sides, and it's over.

'If it's destabilizing, maybe you could alter it so I'm conscious _all_ the time?'

'I don't think so.'

'If you can manage it, why can't I?'

'Does the phrase "deep cover" mean anything to you?'

'I could do deep cover without having to worry about blowing everything.'

'_Goodbye_, Flip Sides. Report to me when the procedure is complete.'

'Okay. How do I perform the procedure?'

The screen went dark.

Springer rolled onto his feet and out of sight behind a console. He instinctively reached for his sword only to find it gone. Obviously this chick wasn't completely clueless. Perhaps Flip Sides had assumed that the electric shock would render him unconscious through the entire "procedure." (Whatever that was.) But she hadn't taken one thing into consideration.

He was a Wrecker.

Flip Sides turned her back on the console. The lighting in what was now obviously an office or laboratory of sorts was dim, but he could see her clearly. She stumbled, clutching her head. There was a tinkle of glass as she knocked a glass jar to the floor.

It was then he noticed something rather remarkable about Flip Sides, something that momentarily put him at a loss. In every form, in every angle and even in the way she stood, Flip Sides resembled Rosanna. She had a vastly similar chassis, only with a purple paint job instead of a pink, and her visor was red instead of blue. Springer might have even mistaken Flip Sides for her if he hadn't heard Flip Sides clearly state that she was a Decepticon. And being a Decepticon made her an automatic enemy, even if she looked exactly like Rosanna.

'Better hurry,' she murmured.

Flip Sides turned to the spot where he'd been laying nanokliks before.

'Oops.'

Springer jumped. He rushed towards the Decepticon. Flip Sides easily slid underneath him. When he landed – crashing into the wall and several pieces of equipment in the process – Flip Sides was on the opposite end of the room. She had drawn out a set of bolas that danced with red electricity.

They were at a standoff.

Flip Sides spun her bolas faster, so fast that they became a blur of red.

She threw them.

Springer took advantage of it. He snatched her bolas out of thin air and tossed them right back at her. Flip Sides bent back to avoid him. Charging forwards, Springer grabbed her around the throat and pinned her to the ground.

'What did you do with Rosanna?' demanded Springer.

'What are you – ' Flip Sides choked. 'Let…go…!'

'Don't think I'm gonna go easy on you just 'cause you're a femme,' Springer squeezed harder. 'Where is Rosanna? I know you said something about her and I want to know what you meant!'

'I can't…tell you…if you're strangling me!' gasped Flip Sides.

He released. Slightly. Just enough to let her talk. 'Tell me what's going on or I'll kill you!'

'You won't kill me,' said Flip Sides.

'I will unless you talk!'

'No, you won't.' A slick smile crossed her face.

Flip Sides abruptly froze. Then, slowly, her visor changed from red to blue, vastly altering the dim lighting in the room. Her paint faded to pink. Springer gasped and immediately jumped back. The new 'bot stood up. Before his eyes, Flip Sides just melted away into an entirely different femme.

_It's a trick,_ Springer kept repeating in his mind. He knew this wasn't possible, but before his optics it had just happened.

It was Rosanna.

'Oh…' Rosanna gasped. She looked around. 'What…how did I get here? I thought that…'

Springer realized he was shaking violently. He started when Rosanna caught sight of him.

'Oh, hi!' Rosanna waved. 'Say, could you tell me where I am? I mean, I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I just had a total mind blank! I mean – it almost feels…_cool_. I mean, obviously it isn't cool not knowing where you are, but woo! I don't know. I guess I just wandered off…Hey, you don't look so good. You okay?'

'Is this a trick?' Springer demanded.

'…Well, I know that – '

'Don't play games with me, Flip Sides!' snapped Springer.

'Uh, who's Flip Sides?'

'You are!'

'I am?'

'Don't act stupid!' Springer pointed at her dramatically. 'You just changed paint jobs right in front of my optics! You can't fool me, Flip Sides! I know that's you!'

'Ah – I have _no_ idea what you're talking about.'

Springer glared at her. This had to be a trick. In every way it absolutely had to be a trick. But the more he thought about, the more confused he became, the more he tried to convince himself that this wasn't Rosanna standing in front of him. Rosanna wasn't a Decepticon traitor! She was an innocent 'bot who entertained millions of Cybertronians across the sector! If anything Flip Sides had to be some sort of virus that corrupted Rosanna's processor, making her have a double personality.

After a few minutes thinking about this, Springer convinced himself that this was the case. Rosanna was sick and she needed his help. He turned to look at her.

Only to find that it wasn't Rosanna standing there anymore.

Flip Sides was in her place. While he'd been distracted with his own thoughts, she had reasserted herself. Springer took a fighting stance.

'You know better than that,' said Flip Sides. 'You wouldn't hurt your precious Rosanna, would you?'

Springer wrestled with this idea. Then he relaxed.

'Better,' Flip Sides nodded.

'Where's Rosanna?' Springer demanded.

'You just saw her.'

'_That_. Was a trick of some sort.'

'No, _that_. Was Rosanna. Don't tell me you're as thick as everyone says you are. If you were as half as intelligent as you _think_ you are, you would know by now that there's no such Autobot as "Rosanna." There's only me, and my name's Flip Sides. Do I look like an Autobot to you?'

'If you're not Rosanna, then that means I can hurt you!' Springer punched his servo.

'I didn't say that,' Flip Sides took a step back. Weary, but confident. 'The Rosanna you know…well, you could say she's unconscious for the moment.'

'…What do you mean?'

'You see, Rosanna is completely unaware of my existence. I'm a Decepticon agent and Rosanna is my alternate identity. Although she has no collection of having any loyalties to the Decepticons, she subconsciously gathers information for us. Rosanna is a Decepticon program that was created to be the ultimate spy. I have the privilege of controlling this program to make sure she keeps her duties in mind. Or not. Rosanna is a part of me, so if you harm Rosanna, you harm her, as well. As far as Rosanna's concerned, though, she's a star with credits, a ship, and millions of admirers.'

'You're a spy?'

'No, duh,' Flip Sides smirked. 'What gave it away? The secret identity or the Decepticon equipment? Right when the war ended, Megatron selected a group of elite Decepticon espionage agents – the best of the best – to infiltrate the Autobots. And so I was given the Rosanna program to put it to the test, and so far it's worked out in my favour. She's all in here.' Flip Sides tapped on her head. 'We're two sides of the same coin.'

Springer scowled at her.

'You think you can stare me down? I don't think so.'

'You're a traitor,' Springer's voice wavered.

'Me? No. I've always been a Decepticon. Rosanna's a Decepticon, too, even though she's in complete denial. Unfortunately we've been having some problems with Rosanna lately. Although she's merely a program, she's also becoming a little more sentient than we would like. If she goes too far she may even begin to detect my presence and feel the need to try and dispose of me so that she can control this body, not me. I've had little control over her lately, but once I return to Cybertron I'll regain my foothold.'

'Thanks to Shockwave?' asked Springer.

'Yes, thanks to Shockwave,' said Flip Sides. '…But don't get your hopes up. _I_ don't even know where he is.'

'Alright. Then why are you here?'

'Have you ever heard of something called the "Hate Plague?"' asked Flip Sides.

'Course,' shrugged Springer. 'It was the Decepticon codename for a virus that they infected Autobot colonies with. It was your basic madness plague; anyone who was effected attacked anything and anyone they saw.'

'Precisely,' said Flip Sides. 'Decepticons banned the formula for the Hate Plague after they accidentally unleashed an unfortunately fatal batch on their own. For years we attempted to perfect the virus until we changed the nature of it entirely. Now, we can infect an Autobot and it will essentially turn them against their own kind. Decepticons can now control anyone affected on the subconscious level. We've tested it on Autobot prisoners and it's worked. Now it's time to put the virus to good use.'

Flip Sides looked over to a desk. Springer hesitantly turned towards it, all the while prepared to dive out of the way in the event that Flip Sides attacked. She was looking towards a chemistry set currently illuminated by a certain, transparent canister in the middle of it. It was filled with a red, gel-like substance with small glowing maggots writhing in the center. Springer wasn't sure whether to be disgusted or impressed, but instinctively knew that it was something he didn't want near him.

'I synthesized my own batch using the specified parameters provided to me by Shockwave,' explained Flip Sides. 'I sabotaged the engines on the ship and made it look like an accident when we were in close range to Athenia so that we would stop here. My mission is to infect a resourceful target with the virus. That way, we would have a new type of spy, one that would relate important information to us that we could use when it's time for the Decepticons to strike back against the Autobots!'

'Who?' demanded Springer.

'I _was_ hoping to get Red Alert,' shrugged Flip Sides. 'She's currently working on multiple classified projects in coordination with Perceptor and Wheeljack. With our influence she could sabotage those projects without even knowing it and _we _could acquire the plans! Instead we – or, rather, _I_ – decided to infect you instead.'

'Ha, but you didn't succeed!' Springer laughed. 'You do realize that I will tell _everyone_ about your identity, right? You just made a _huge_ mistake!'

'Oh, I doubt you'll tell anyone.'

'Try to stop me!'

'I don't have to. You see, Springer…' Flip Sides smiled slyly. 'I've already infected you.'

Springer remembered the first time he'd gotten locked in combat with a Decepticon. He'd been trained for that moment, but in the face of danger he had no idea what to do. All he could think about was how vulnerable he was and how that Decepticon easily had the power to rip him limb from limb. All he could think about was the fear overwhelming every emotion, leaving him paralyzed on the spot, and completely unable to defend himself. He hadn't known what to do regardless of his extensive knowledge, could only think about crumpling up in a ball and waiting for death.

That's how he felt at that moment. At that moment all he saw were all those times – those few, but powerful times – when he'd felt genuine fear. All those times he'd been unable to fight back, but he couldn't fight the Hate Plague. He'd heard so many horror stories about it. He'd heard about the virus driving 'bots to insanity. He'd heard of his fellow Wreckers succumbing to it and murdering entire platoons of brave Autobots.

'You should begin to feel the effects now,' announced Flip Sides. 'You shouldn't feel any pain. It will be simply like gaining a sort of enlightenment.'

'If you call the Decepticon way of life "enlightening," then you really are demented,' Springer said.

'Oh. In a few minutes you won't be thinking like that anymore.'

Springer experienced a blackout. Perhaps it was the panic or perhaps it really was him succumbing to the virus. Now that he was aware of it, he was also aware of the constant buzzing noise in his audio receptors, like a television that had lost its signal. This buzzing noise only became louder as time passed. His knees buckled, but he was determined to remain on his feet.

'Once the virus has fully taken effect, I'll transport you back to your team,' Flip Sides continued. 'And you know what the best part about all this is?'

That was is. Springer was on his knees. He tried to keep telling himself that he was an Autobot through-and-through. He was too good to fall for this virus charade.

'When you wake up, you'll have no memory of this conversation.'

* * *

'Springer.'

Springer jumped as a servo gently touched his arm. He sat up a little too quickly and was overcome by dizziness.

He sat up. He was in his quarters. His quarters, which were too large and too high-tech for his taste and barren of any personal effects. Springer had been lying on the couch. Springer suddenly felt a sense of dread. He felt like he should be looking for something, but he didn't know what it was. For that moment he almost remembered…

'Yoohoo, Cybertron to Springer?'

He turned to look at the speaker. Rodimus was waving a servo in front of his face.

'Geez, you really are out of it tonight,' remarked Rodimus. 'Didn't you hear me? I must've knocked twenty million times! I had to use my access code to open the slagging door! Hope you don't mind. Here. I got you this as a peace offering, although it's enough to drive any sane person into insanity.'

Rodimus handed Springer a small disc. When Springer pressed a button on the side, a small, 3D Rosanna appeared and began to singing one of her most popular songs, "Rah-Rah-Robots."

'It's called a "hologram,"' said Rodimus. 'Usually they only use primitive holograms for training simulations and on ships and buildings and all that, but pretty soon they'll be able to do whatever they want with it! Who knows? Maybe in a few years _I'll_ be able to impersonate the Magnus using _holograms_!'

'Yeah, cool,' Springer watched the Rosanna hologram dancing around on the spot. Until now he didn't realize how fake her voice sounded; it was almost too distorted by various musical effects to make out any of the lyrics he knew so well.

'You would have been disappointed by it all, anyways,' said Rodimus, breaking the silence. 'By the assignment, I mean. She didn't come out once. I guess it was for her protection. But, nope, we didn't see one sign that she was even on that ship. Very disappointing. But, since I did this one thing for a _celebrity_…maybe they'll begin to take notice of me! Can you believe it? I feel like they just dumped their valedictorian on a colony and complete forgot about me!'

Springer didn't answer. He was too mesmerized by the image.

'So…you're a-okay, right?'

'…Huh?'

'Well, you won't believe this, but earlier, _Hubcap_ called me,' said Rodimus. 'He seemed to think that you were in some sort of trouble.'

'Hubcap?'

'The guy has super-hearing, remember? He can pretty much hear anything that goes on around the colony. Anyways, the damage to Rosanna's ship doesn't seem too bad and she's due to leave in the morning, so we left the Autotroopers in charge and came back here. I thought I better drop in and make sure you're not thinking of violently killing me in the middle of the night. I mean, I didn't let you meet Rosanna or anything. Not that you would've met her anyways.'

Springer shut off the Rosanna hologram. He handed it back. 'You can keep it.'

'Hey, I don't want to be caught with this thing!' exclaimed Rodimus. 'Especially after I said all those…Wait, you don't want to keep it? Do you already have one?'

'No, I just don't want it.'

'Why not? This is exactly the sort of thing you like!'

'I dunno. I've been thinking…I've been thinking that maybe you an' Brawn were right about Rosanna being a flake.'

'C'mon, you thought I was serious?'

'It just seems – it just seems stupid now,' said Springer. '…I don't know why. It's like I just suddenly changed my mind about her. To be honest, I'm having a bit of trouble…remembering what I've been doing for the last few hours.'

'Define "trouble."'

'As in, I can't remember a thing.'

Rodimus looked at him with vague concern. '…Maybe you should go see Red Alert.'

'I feel fine!'

'I dunno, Springer, you're acting _very_ strangely. At least, stranger than usual.'

'I'm fine. I don't need to see Red Alert.'

'Humour me.'

'I don't think I will.'

'Now you got me worried!' Rodimus laughed nervously. 'This morning you would do anything to get within five miles of her! And then you just suddenly change your mind, not to mention you can't remember what you've been doing for the last few hours? That seems worthy of a visit to the doctor to me!'

'It's not like that, Rodimus,' said Springer. 'Rosanna just doesn't seem that important anymore. You can keep that hologram thing.'

Springer turned away from Rodimus.

Rodimus lingered a nanoklik more before he went to the exit.

'Suit yourself,' Rodimus shrugged. 'But if you get any more "unusual" symptoms, just promise me you won't suddenly flip your lid.' He looked at the Rosanna hologram. '…Maybe I can reprogram this thing to have _Red Alert_ singing "Rah-Rah-Robots" instead of Rosanna! Oh, that would be hysterical!'

With this new idea in mind, Rodimus fled the room. He left Springer behind him. Maybe Rodimus had already forgotten about Springer's behaviour or maybe he'd just decided to give him space. In a day or two they'd both forget about it. Springer, himself, wasn't sure why he felt violated and betrayed. It was almost as if someone had opened his optics to a startling reality. Suddenly, the prospect of meeting Rosanna only drove needles into his spark.

The following morning Springer resigned his membership to the Rosanna Fan Club.


	9. A Quick Conspiracy Theorist

**A Quick Conspiracy Theorist**

In the dead of night, few Autobots ventured out into Athenia's streets. Those who did were often intent on challenging the local law enforcement. Most didn't try, so it was actually possible to walk through the street and feel relatively secure in the presence of flashing neon lights and well-lit streets. Yet, in the comparison to glittering avenues of Cybertron, where night time activity was almost constant, it was abandoned with the exception of a stray pedestrian dragging himself home after a hard day at work.

Nevertheless, despite the lack of witnesses, he decided he couldn't take any chances.

A streak of blue weaved through the streets and alleys. He hurried to one side, and then the other. A helpless Autobot peered over his shoulder upon catching sight of the phenomena. The streak flew past him, knocking the Autobot to his feet. Again and again – like a continuous roll of film doomed to repeat itself into eternity – the streak made its way down the street until darting into an ally and diving behind a corner and not appearing one more. With that, the silence settled down once more.

Blurr chanced peeking out.

Okay. _This time_ he'd screwed up.

The question was how to get out of this problem. Normally when he found himself backed up into a corner he'd call in Cliffjumper. While impulsive, rude, and _very _condescending, Cliffjumper was also very good at his job and wouldn't hesitate to help him up. The problem was that Longarm Prime had convinced the guy to go on vacation somewhere and Blurr had no idea where that vacation had taken him. He was on his own.

'Okay, Blurr, think,' he murmured. 'Think, think, think, think, think…'

Blurr checked outside the alley. There was still no one in sight. What mattered now was reaching a solution and pulling himself out of this hole.

He set his optics on the forked Space Bridge glinting in the distance, surrounded by a secure fence which was no match for a trained intel agent. So, without the least bit of hesitation, Blurr transformed and headed for the horizon.

* * *

Red Alert examined the diagrams she'd tediously drawn throughout the day.

She could only think of one thing. What was she doing wrong?

Perceptor and Wheeljack were depending on her to develop a technique that would actually work. But how could she do that if she wasn't even there to perform the technique herself? How could she possibly be expected to maintain the same standards when she was separated from her two partners? She'd often bounced ideas off of them, but they couldn't sit around on the communications network all the time. They had their own worries and Red Alert had hers.

She went over her datapad for what felt like the thousandth time. How to merge Decepticon coding with Autobots? She felt guilty. She was betraying everything that was sacred to the Autobots, bending the very moral guidelines that conducted every member of their society. It was basically a dissection. They were violating the dead, something that wasn't in Red Alert's programming. She knew what the Elite Guard would do with this project. They would use it to their own advantage, to create a new weapon to use against the Decepticons and if they went too far…they might turn their creation on fellow Autobots. She didn't want to be part of that.

But if she didn't do as she was told, she risked the stockades. The thought of the stockades was enough to put any Autobot in their place.

At the sound of a knock, she turned in her seat to find Ironhide lingering in the doorframe, looking determined, but sincere.

'Springer, Brawn, and I are taking off,' he said.

'Good,' Red Alert snapped. 'Why are you telling me?'

'I was wondering if you wanted to come.'

'Come where?'

'We were just gonna go…you know, hang around,' Ironhide shrugged. 'We don't really think about where we're going, we just go out and do it. So are you gonna come or what?'

'Do you think I'm going to come?'

'No.'

'Well, then. There you have it.'

'Fine, I just thought I'd ask,' Ironhide rolled his optics. 'Hot Rod's still in his office, by the way.'

'…Seriously?' Red Alert laughed. 'Why isn't he with one of his girlfriends?'

'Said he was workin' on somethin' important.'

She paused. She turned to meet optics with Ironhide.

'Yeah, that was my reaction,' said Ironhide. 'I dunno what it is, but he's being _pretty_ secretive about it.'

'Alright, I'll keep an viz scanner on him.'

'Okay. See you.'

She heard them leave and the voices of her team mates faded. It was quiet for the first time that day.

Red Alert sighed. Well, this project wasn't going to get off the ground anytime. She'd take a break and then come back to it.

She stood, stretched, and headed to Rodimus's office. The door was already open. Rodimus was sitting at his chair with his feet on the desk, far too entranced by a datapad to register her approach. Thus, she took advantage of his distraction and peered over his shoulder. She briefly caught a glimpse of the blueprint of some sort of ship.

'What are you doing?' she asked.

Rodimus jumped. He fumbled with the datapad. '_Don't_ sneak up on me like that! I'm doing _very_ important work!'

'What kind of work?'

'Important work.'

'Yes, I know it's important. What does "important" mean?'

'Important for the team.'

'...What are you up to?'

'I'm not gonna tell you.'

'Why?'

'Because you'll tell.'

'Oh, come on! We're not a bunch of protoforms! Either you tell me yourself or I hack into your personal files to see what's going on. Which is it gonna be?'

Rodimus tilted his head at her in an inquisitive manner, contemplating her words.

'Okay, fine,' he shrugged. He leaned forwards dramatically. 'Red Alert, it's been three megacycles since this team was put together. Do you know what kind of assignments we've gotten since then?'

'I wouldn't know. I spend all my time in my laboratory.'

'_Precisely_. You haven't _had_ to leave HQ because there haven't been any real assignments. Team Athenia – '

'You _named_ our team?'

' – has only handled _little_ things, like trespassers and guard duty and patrol.' Rodimus marched around the table, servos behind his back. 'If we're going to go up in the world, we're gonna have to up our game. What is one thing that any Elite Guard crew has that we don't?'

'Dignity?' she guessed.

'Wrong.'

'Ranks? Authority? Free seats at Maccadam's?'

'Wrong again! R.A., we've been banished! All the action is out there! Now, I know what you're going to ask. How are we going to get to this action?'

'Actually, I was going to question your sanity.'

'The answer? A _starship_.'

'…Huh?'

'The only way we're going to see any action around here is if we go out there and find it! If there's one thing I learned from Kup it's that you have to go in search of adventure! So, a few hours ago, I sent a request to Cybertron Command for a starship. Naturally they turned it down because they thought that it was "unnecessary."'

'That solves that, I guess,' Red Alert said.

'Hardly,' Rodimus continued. '_But_. There's a way to get around that. You see, if _I_ legally owned a ship, that wouldn't be against regulations.'

'But you couldn't use that ship for official Cybertron Command-related duties.'

'…Well, not now. Not until I get approval. But since they wouldn't have put any resources into a ship that I owned, they would be more willing to grant my request! Besides, we're only a few light-years from the Galactic Rim and Athenia doesn't have any warships; I think it's easy to deduce that we are in _need_ of one and Cybertron Command isn't willing to accept that. It's for our own protection.'

'You just want a starship because a starship is a status symbol!' exclaimed Red Alert. 'You're crazy! Do you realize how expensive an investment like that would be? ! Where the slag would you get the money to pay for a starship? ! You can't use the department budget to pay for it and your salary can't be anything special!'

'There are _tons_ of cheap ships out there,' Rodimus persisted. 'Look, if we buy a ship off of a scrapyard – '

'A _scrapyard_?'

Rodimus massaged his temples.

'You…you want to buy a ship off a _scrapyard_? !' yelled Red Alert. 'You're kidding me! They call it a "scrapyard" for a reason! If you absolutely _must_ buy a ship, buy one that's new and more reliable!'

'But you said yourself that money's an issue!'

'Then don't buy a ship at all!'

'It's too late. I've made up my mind. I'm getting a ship.'

'You only want a ship because you want a toy to play with!'

'Not true.'

'Really?'

'…Well…maybe a _little_ bit, but to be honest – '

There was a very rapid knock. _Very_ rapid, more like a consistent little tap that made Rodimus immediately fall silent. Red Alert didn't quite register it at first, but when she did, she turned to the doorway and fully expected to see a member of the team there. But that isn't what she saw. Instead, she saw a blue Autobot framed by light.

'…Am I interrupting something?' he asked.

'Blurr!' Red Alert exclaimed. 'What in the _Pits_ are you doing here? !'

At the sound of his name, Blurr rushed forwards and abruptly appeared at her side. He raised a finger, like he was about to say something important.

Instead, he said: 'I'm sorry, Red Alert, but that is classified.'

'Classified, my _stabilizing servo_!'

'Oh, don't sound so surprised, Red Alert, you know perfectly well that nearly all of my activities are classified. Where I walk is classified. What I say is classified. In fact, me, talking, right now – _this_ is classified. Deal with it.'

'Be that as it may, _what are you doing here? !_' Red Alert persisted. 'You're supposed to be on some sort of top secret mission in the Beta system!'

'Well, I - how did you know that?'

'I'm sorry, that information is classified.'

Blurr looked somewhere between bemused and annoyed. Nevertheless, he shook his head and continued. 'You should have known by now that Cybertron Intelligence isn't about to disclose to the public what its agents are doing. More to the point, I _am_ on a top secret, fact-finding mission, however, I am not inclined to disclose the nature of why I'm here in the first place or how I happened to get here. Although if I was in charge of Cybertron Intelligence I might alter the rules so that Autobots who might be resourceful to the intelligence officer would be permitted to be informed of the situation. That would make things a lot more interesting; to be honest I think they make us do it the "hard way" just to see if we'll even survive the first steps of the mission in question.'

Red Alert rolled her optics.

'Straight to the point,' Blurr continued. 'I have found myself in a bit of a predicament and – dare I say this? – I need your help to get out of said predicament for I believe that you are trustworthy with such sensitive information. I find myself in the need to proceed to a classified location. Now, I was scheduled to be transported to this classified location from Athenia, but my ride has been…compromised. Furthermore, my _new boss_, Longarm Prime, has _also_ informed me that "I'm on my own!" Honestly, I'm on my own most of the time. You'd think that he'd had least be able to give me a ride once in a while or do I have to do everything myself?'

'…So what do you want?' Red Alert demanded.

'Oh, for the love of Primus,' growled Blurr. He took a deep breath. 'I…need…to…use…the…Space Bridge!'

'What? ! _Our_ Space Bridge?'

'Yes!' exclaimed Blurr, as if his intentions had been obvious the whole time. 'It is the best alternative that I could think of that didn't involve blowing my cover. Because if one blows one's cover as an agent is forced to retire and in Intel, that usually means you get a desk job. A desk job! Albeit I would probably be the best administrative officer Cybertron Intelligence has ever had, that isn't exactly "my line of work" if you know what I mean. Wait a nanokilk, of course you don't know what I mean, you _like_ having a desk job…'

'_Shut up_!' shouted Red Alert. 'You can't use _this_ Space Bridge! Do I look like I know how to work it? !'

'I also require that the records of the transwarp are erased, preferably, or else I'll loose my job.'

'Great, I don't know how to do that either!' Red Alert hit her forehead. 'Great motherboard of Primus, Blurr! You get me into these tight situations and I don't know _slag_ about what I'm supposed to do! I fix 'bots – _that's_ what I do! I don't work the stupid Space Bridge!'

'In any case, in any way, I NEED YOUR HELP!' Blurr grabbed her forearms, eyes wide and desperate like a trapped animal. '_Please_, Red Alert, oh, please, oh, please, oh, please! I don't want a desk job! I know we haven't exactly gotten along well in the past, but just this one time, could you please, please, please help?'

She looked away.

'Please?' he grinned weakly.

'…Okay,' Red Alert whispered. She lightly pushed him away. 'Okay, but I'm doing it for Wheeljack, because he _likes_ you for some unimaginable reason.'

'Oh, thank you, thank you!' Blurr hugged her and lifted her clean off her feet.

'Put me down!' she screamed.

'Sorry.' Blurr did so, beaming.

It was at this point that both of them seemed to remember Rodimus. He was staring at Blurr like he was a Quintesson.

'Uh…Rodimus, this is Blurr,' Red Alert introduced them. 'Blurr, Rodimus.'

'Ah, I know who you are!' Blurr shook Rodimus's servo violently. 'You graduated from the Academy just this year, didn't you? Congratulations on your first command, as I can only assume this is your first command, though I hear it's quite rare for the Academy to give a graduate a command assignment. Although I needn't remind Red Alert for the need of secrecy, I feel that I must tell _you_.'

Rodimus blinked. He leaned in to whisper to Red Alert. 'I have no idea what this guy's saying.'

'Repeat after me!' Blurr ignored him. 'I, Rodimus, solemnly swear to _never_ speak of what I am about to do to any other 'bot in existence, and this doesn't just apply to Autobots, but to neutrals and Decepticons as well, although I don't know why you'd be talking to a Decepticon. Speaking of neutrals, I don't see how they can be neutrals when they seem to work alongside both sides. In most cases, they're either spies for Autobots or spies for Decepticons, which, tempting as it may sound, gives them an air of indecisiveness.'

'...What?'

'Repeat it!'

'Uh, I, Rodimus Prime, solemnly swear to never speak of what I am about to do to any other 'bot in...existence...?'

'Very good!' grinned Blurr. 'Now. Shall we get straight down to business? I need means of transportation and I need you to provide it for me.'

'Space Bridge,' translated Red Alert.

'…Where are you going, again?' asked Rodimus.

Blurr raised his finger a second time, again, as if he was about to tell them something very important.

'_Classified_,' Blurr stated.

'Well, how are we supposed to help you go somewhere if we don't know where you're going?'

'…I don't know. But you're not supposed to know and I was told not to tell anyone, as per tradition.'

'Don't you think that's a _little_ counter-productive?'

'Well, perhaps – '

'Good! We're all in agreement! So where are you going?'

Blurr looked at both of them. The reluctance was plain on his face. 'I'm going past the Galactic Rim. If I was transported to a moon situated approximately seven lightyears from here, I could handle the situation from there on.'

'Yes.'

Rodimus folded his arms. 'Nuh, huh. No can do.'

'Why not? It's just – '

'You should've thought of this,' Rodimus sighed. 'A transwarp can be traceable. Not to mention it's kinda big and bright – anyone from here to Cybertron's gonna be able to visually see a transwarp. I think that's a little bit of a problem for someone on a "classified" mission. You'll want a ship, not a Space Bridge.'

The atmosphere in the room grew with tension. Blurr was filled with nothing but grief, clutching the table like it was a lifeline. It was when Rodimus spoke that he relaxed.

'Of course,' Blurr breathed. 'I wasn't thinking.'

'Well, good thing some 'bots are here to think for you.'

'Rodimus!' exclaimed Red Alert.

'_What_?' Rodimus snapped. 'Look, I don't see what he wants me to do! He can't use our Space Bridge! Someone will detect it, friend _or_ foe! Not to mention someone's gonna have my head if I authorize a transwarp for him!'

'What was that about a ship?' inquired Blurr.

'Great!' Red Alert said. 'Taking a ship into Decepticon territory! Of course that's not dangerous at all!'

'…I thought you insisted that Cybertron Command insisted that there weren't any Decepticons left,' remarked Rodimus.

'Well, I…' Red Alert turned away. '_Shut up_.'

'Do you think you can get me a shuttle?' asked Blurr. 'Anything? I could take it myself and be on my way.'

Rodimus reflected on this for a few minutes. 'Hubcap.'

'Oh, no,' Red Alert groaned. 'Oh, _no_! Don't trust that imbecile. He'll only screw everything up!'

'Well, he has a good head on his shoulders and he's probably the only one who can arrange for a shuttle on such short notice. I don't thinl we have much of a choice but to trust him.'

'You're insane.'

'It's worth a shot, because no other Autobot on Athenia will get him a shuttle and not put it on the records. You stay here, I'll contact Hubcap.

Rodimus exited into the main room, leaving a distressed Blurr with Red Alert.

* * *

What a night. First the excitement over the possibility of getting and ship and now he had an Intel agent in his office. From the foyer, Rodimus peered at the back of Blurr's head, now deep in discussion with their resident medic. This was the first time he'd seen Red Alert being social with someone.

Rodimus retreated to a quiet corner where he wouldn't be overheard and opened a link with Hubcap.

'Rodimus to Hubcap,' Rodimus said. 'You there?'

'_Well, would you look at that!_' Hubcap responded in an overly loud voice. He must be talking to someone on the other line who Rodimus couldn't hear. '_I got customers!...Sorry about that, Hawkeye. I had Jackpot on the other line. He's my best friend, but I tell ya, he _never_ shuts up._'

'Hubcap, I got a little problem.'

'…_If it's about femmes, you're on your own_.'

'No,' Rodimus leaned sideways to get a look at the Intel agent again. 'It's a little bigger than that.'

'_Wow. You sound serious_.'

'Surprised?'

'_Mortified_.'

'Look, long story short, I need a shuttle.'

'Oh_, I _see_. Ha, ha! This is about femmes! You want to take one of 'em out to see the stars!_'

'No, Hubcap, it's not for me, it's for someone else. I need a shuttle on the docking port just outside our HQ as soon as possible. This needs to be totally off the records; do you understand me? I don't want any trace of this _anywhere_.'

'_What's going on? Is there an emergency?_'

'It's not my emergency. I got some guy in my office saying he's an intel agent and he needs a shuttle. So keep it quiet. Fortunately, you strike me as the type of 'bot who can keep a secret.'

'…_Holy Primus, it's Blurr, isn't it?_'

Rodimus jumped. 'How did you – '

'_Rodimus, Rodimus, Rodimus!_' Rodimus could just imagine the smug look growing on Hubcap's face. '_Blurr is famous! At least around my sort…Businessmen, I mean. Yeah, a few years ago he got a number of shady characters in my business arrested, which was pretty good because I kinda owed some money to some of the guys he got arrested. I practically owe my life to the guy. Holy…WOW. I can't believe those rumours were actually true! Wow. He's going past the Galactic Rim, right?'_

'…Uh…yeah?'

'_Oh, yeah! Wait until I tell Jackpot this!_'

Rodimus took a look to make sure Blurr and Red Alert weren't eavesdropping. He lowered his tone ever so slightly. 'Hubcap, do you happen to know why Blurr is going past the Galactic Rim?'

'_Well, _duh_. It's a rumour that's been floating around my kind for sometime...Businessmen, I mean. Apparently there's some Decepticon colony deep in 'con territory. You know, one of the places the Elite Guard picked clean back in the Great War, but it got repopulated later on by the 'cons. So anyways, one of my informants recently acquired some top secret transcripts in which Blurr is ordered to infiltrate the colony and confirm whether or not Megatron's with them. Isn't that cool?_'

'Megatron?' Rodimus repeated. 'You're not serious.'

'_Slag yeah, I'm serious. 'Bots in my business don't kid about this sort of thing. Wow. I can't believe he's actually…Do you think you could get Blurr's autograph for me?_'

'Only if you get him that shuttle.'

'_Oh, sweet, merciful Primus! Jackpot's not going to believe that I got a shuttle for _the_ Blurr!_'

'Hubcap…'

'_Hm? Right. Shuttle. Right away! Wow._'

The transmission was cut. Rodimus made to return to his office. He stopped himself short, stumbling slightly and grabbing the couch for support.

Megatron alive. If that was true…it changed everything. It changed everything about his situation.

The official story was that Megatron had been killed during the Battle for Iacon, that he had died a death worthy of such a coward. Yet rumours of his survival had persisted throughout Rodimus's generation, even though they were more like conspiracy theories held onto by the paranoid. Cybertron Command was adamant that Megatron was long dead, the Decepticons were nothing but a disgruntled group of nomads, and there was nothing to be afraid of. Of course, Hubcap's story could easily be twisted and distorted as it passed from 'bot to 'bot. Something to scare each other with. At the same time, this was the closest to conformation that Megatron was still alive and within servo's reach.

If Megatron was just past the Galactic Rim, that didn't make the idea of getting a starship a possibility. It became a necessity. If Rodimus's team was caught without means of fighting back against the legendary Decepticon warships, well…they wouldn't stand a chance. Athenia was right between Decepticon territory and Cybertron. Any advancing 'con forces would march right through this sector and tear it down like they had in the first war.

Regardless of whether or not this was his first choice for an assignment, Athenia was now Rodimus's responsibility. It was his duty to protect the Autobots who dwelt here, completely ignorant of the danger they were in. He would start by helping Blurr with his mission.

* * *

Rodimus and Red Alert were out on a dock situated in the shadow of the government buildings flocked around the Space Bridge. There were several of them, shooting out from the side of the asteroid like fingers. Many of them were already occupied by various science-faring vessels, so the shuttle that had mysteriously appeared at one such port was hardly unusual. It was late enough that it was virtually empty out, so they didn't have to worry too much about being spotted. Nevertheless, Blurr – standing in the doorway to the shuttle – kept looking around nervously.

'Unorthodox, but acceptable,' said Blurr. He shook both their servos in succession. 'Thank you for your assistance. I hope I can meet you again someday so that I can properly thank you, but unfortunately I'm in too much of a hurry and I hardly get any vacations, which is a total injustice considering all the slag I put up with. Well, bye.'

Before either of them were able to say "bye" back, the shuttle door had closed and the ship was departing. Rodimus and Red Alert watched it back away. In the hollow silence that followed, Rodimus took the opportunity to walk off.

Red Alert caught up with him.

'I hope you don't plan to tell anyone about this,' said Red Alert.

'No,' Rodimus grumbled. 'Intel would silence before I could say anything in any case. I've heard my fair share of horror stories about them.'

Red Alert shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

'Blurr seems alright. On the other servo, you can never really tell.'

'Yeah, I guess not. Cybertron Intelligence has always been "hush-hush." Their operations tend to be independent from the rest of Cybertron Command.'

'Really? I didn't know that.'

'That's the point.'

'It's kind of intimidating.'

'How do you mean?'

'Well, if a regular Autobot found out a little too much about Intel's operations or if they were overly critical of the government, they could "get rid of them" and everyone would turn a blind eye.'

'That's absurd.'

'It was just a thought.'

'Maybe it should remain a thought.'

'What, are you gonna set Cybertron Intelligence on me?'

She frowned. 'What's on your mind?'

'Nothing much.'

'Oh?'

'Well, Hubcap said something to me that's gotten me thinking. It's nothing important.'

'_Oh_?'

Rodimus stopped dead in his tracks. 'He told me that he'd heard that Megatron was alive.'

'Don't tell me you're one of those guys that believes those dumb stories,' said Red Alert.

'He said Blurr was going out to a Decepticon colony to find out if said "stories" about Megatron being alive were true.'

She started, the surprise obvious on her face. She quickly made an attempt to mask it with innocence.

'I've been thinking,' Rodimus folded his arms. 'Maybe there's another reason they sent us out here.'

'Who's "they?"'

'Us. Team Athenia.' He marked off his fingers as he counted off his evidence. 'First, they establish a presence on Athenia after millions of years of leaving this colony to develop on its own. Second, they build a Space Bridge. Now, I know nowadays they say that Space Bridges are strictly for transportation, but what about the Space Bridge nexus? With the nexus, they can transport forces across the galaxy mere seconds after receiving a distress signal. Do you remember what I said? Athenia is at a strategic point. Back in the war there were several battles to control this particular sector. Want me to go on or are you going to say that I'm imagining things?'

'…I'm listening,' Red Alert said.

'Then there's this team,' continued Rodimus. 'There's you, to start with. You're a respected doctor who's worked alongside Cybertron Command for years. Back on Cybertron you're safe, but why did they send you out here? Maybe they used something as an excuse to send you here, however, I don't think the government would simply banish you to the far side of the quadrant without a good reason to do so. There's me. I don't mean to glorify myself or anything, but I _was_ at the top of my class and normally 'bots in my position don't get second-rate locations as assignments. Normally we go straight through to the Elite Guard. That didn't happen with me. Why? I had all the qualifications, I had the skills, so why did they send me to some obscure colony of all places? There's also the matter of Springer. He was the leader of the Wreckers, not to mention he's slagging scary when he's fighting Decepticons. If they really wanted to stop him from picking fights along the Galactic Rim they _should've _sent him to the stockades. Instead, they put him on this team. They didn't have any good reason to do that.'

'Yeah…yeah, I guess that's true,' agreed Red Alert. 'What about Brawn and Ironhide?'

'Brawn fought on Athenia during the war,' remembered Rodimus. 'According to his record, he was some sort of war hero back in the day and he _led_ the Athenia Autobots of that era straight into combat, dealing a good blow to Decepticon forces in the process. Ironhide…well, to be honest, I'm not too sure about Ironhide, but he's a good officer with a unique skill. Not every Autobot can transform themselves into a solid, indestructible alloy. He'd be very difficult to kill, I imagine.'

'So what you're suggesting is that we were strategically placed?'

'Precisely,' Rodimus nodded. 'All of this happening in less than a stellar cycle, just a few lightyears from the Galactic Rim. And past the Galactic Rim, it's rumoured that Megatron is alive. Don't you think that sounds a little suspicious?'

Red Alert looked at him. For the first time, she looked at him and there wasn't a sign of contempt in her expression.

'Cybertron Command's always been on edge about the subject,' Red Alert admitted. 'I think somehow they've always known that Megatron was alive. The leader of the Decepticons just doesn't die that easily and no shell or witness to his death has ever been found or even heard of. You have to realize, Rodimus, that all the government wants is peace and security. But…but before I left, things were starting to get…strange. They were asking Wheeljack, Perceptor, and myself to develop weapons and new medical techniques. They never told us why. They were just orders and, as employees, we did it without question.'

'That's what you've been doing in your lab all the time?' asked Rodimus. 'Developing weapons?'

'Yes. However, I never thought that I was assigned to Athenia for a reason. I just thought it was punishment.'

'Yeah, so did I,' agreed Rodimus.

'…What do you think we should do?'

'Well, if we say anything and we happen to be on to something, rest assured we'll get a visit from Cybertron Intelligence. For now I think we should keep this between you and me and prepare for the worst.'

She smirked. 'Let me guess. We start by acquiring a warship.'

'Still think it's a wasteful investment?'

'Maybe not. I just never thought I'd ever find myself inclined to believe a conspiracy theory.'

Rodimus couldn't agree more.


	10. Bugs

**Bugs**

In deep space, no one could hear the sickening bang that ripped through space or feel the subsequent shockwave that nearly overturned the shuttle. Yet instead of breaking, the shuttle sped fearlessly right through the debris it had just shot out of its path. It veered perilously to avoid the various space junk packed in tight within the scrap yard. Still it went through undeterred, unchallenged, and with a sort of raging confidence that couldn't be brought down with even the strongest Decepticon ship, for the blazing Autobot insignia imprinted on the side seemed to provide it with an invisible shield.

Within the shuttle, however, it was a vastly different story. Rodimus was at the helm and he was enjoying himself a little too much.

He let out a joyous cheer as he steered the shuttle in between two pieces of asteroid. The moment he was clear he booted it. For the first time in months he felt like he was doing something aside from sitting at his desk or handling the occasional trespasser. It was just so _exciting_ to be out and about!

Unfortunately the remainder of the team didn't seem to share this enthusiasm. When he checked on them, he saw each Autobot clutching onto something, attempting to keep their balance when the shuttle's floor teetered like some sick amusement park ride. It didn't help that the shuttle happened to be extremely cramped and Springer and Ironhide – being on the large side – took up the majority of the space. He didn't even see Brawn in the mass.

'How's everyone doing?' Rodimus asked.

'I'm gonna blow a gasket,' announced Ironhide in a rather weary voice.

'Well, don't do it on me!' Springer tried to push him back.

'I knew it was a bad idea letting you take the wheel,' said Red Alert. She crawled to the helm. 'Move aside, Hawkeye, _I'm_ driving!'

'You don't know how to pilot a shuttle!' Rodimus pointed out.

'I bet I could do a better job than you!'

Rodimus pulled back on the controls. The shuttle shot straight upwards. Red Alert flew to the back. He tried not to grin in satisfaction at the loud bang that announced she'd just rammed into the others.

'Whoops!' Rodimus exclaimed, levelling off the craft. 'My bad!'

'That's it!' Ironhide butted in. He really did sound sick this time. 'I'm _really_ going to blow a gasket!'

'Hold your head between your knees and you'll be fine!' said Rodimus. 'Trust me! I _aced_ the piloting course back at the Academy. You're all in good servos!'

'Too bad it doesn't feel that way,' Brawn's muffled voice replied. 'If you don't slow down, I'll come up there an' throw you out the airlock!'

'Ugh, you're so unadventurous.' Since he knew Brawn _would_ actually shoot him out the airlock, Rodimus had little choice but to comply with his terms. He slowed the shuttle down. 'There, are you happy?'

'One wonders how you haven't been killed yet if you've been flying at such ludicrous speeds,' said Red Alert. 'I still think coming out all this way to get a ship is absurd. You could just get one cheap off of Hubcap; I'm sure he has _lots_ of contacts who are trying to get rid of one in a hurry. Not to mention we're dangerously close to passing the Galactic Rim and it's illegal to pass the Rim without an Elite Guard escort. You know what? You shouldn't even be _thinking_ of crossing the border!'

'Relax, as long as we stay in this space junk, we're technically in Autobot space,' groaned Rodimus. 'Nag, nag, _nag_, that's _all_ you've been doing since we left Athenia!'

'There are other ways to get a ship!' she pressed.

'Yes, but this is way more interesting.'

'…I'm _so_ reporting you when we get back.'

'Just loosen up, already!' Rodimus snapped. 'I have no intention of crossing the border. We're just here to look at the ship. That's it. That's all we're going to do. You have my word. _Satisfied_?'

'Depends,' Red Alert leaned on the back of his chair. 'Your word hasn't been reliable thus far, has it? Why haven't I seen a report on this vessel, by the way?'

'Yeah!' Brawn pushed Springer and Ironhide out of his way to get to the front. 'You haven't said one word about this so-called "warship" you wanna take a look at!'

'Well, I wanted it to be surprise.' Rodimus hit autopilot and swung around to face the room at large. 'You're going to love it! This thing is an urban legend! I'm lucky I found it before anyone else picked it up!'

Everyone rolled their viz scanners.

'Okay, okay, okay, you want to know the story?' asked Rodimus. 'This ship's called the Sojourner's Passage.'

'You have _got_ to be kidding me,' Brawn deadpanned.

'You've heard of it?' inquired Ironhide.

'Well, _duh_,' said Brawn. 'It's the haunted ship! There's a reason they towed it off to a scrap yard!'

'It's not haunted!' insisted Rodimus. 'It's just got a colourful background, that's all. During the war, the Passage was commandeered by a group of vigilantes. They had the tendency to appear at random times, shoot down Decepticon ships, and then disappear just as suddenly. Unfortunately the crew was never "officially" identified and they were pretty reclusive, so nobody knows who or what they were. They could've even deflected from the Decepticons. In any case, they spent years wrecking havoc on the 'cons, until they vanished a few stellar cycles after the war ended.'

'C'mon, half of that is speculation!' Brawn interrupted. 'When the crew disappeared, the Passage was discovered floating in space, beaten up, and there was nobody on board. So, when other 'bots attempted to take it over, not only did a number of them vanish into thin air, everything started to spontaneously malfunction. The scenario repeated itself over and over again, until finally, they got smart and tried to strip it for parts. Except that the equipment malfunctioned, killed a guy, and injured a whole slagload of other 'bots! _That's_ when they dragged it out to that scrap yard and dumped it for a good cause! The Passage is haunted! You're crazy if you want to take over that thing, Hot Rod! Just take my advice and leave it where it is!'

'But then we'd just be letting a piece of history rust away in some remote corner of the galaxy!' pointed out Rodimus. 'Look, I got the paperwork and I got the credits. We're in the clear! All we gotta do is sign on the dotted line! The Passage is just _waiting_ for someone to snatch it up!'

'And there's a good reason why no one has!' Brawn retorted.

'That's funny, Brawn,' said Red Alert. 'I didn't flag you as the superstitious type.'

'Better safe than sorry! So just leave the slagging ship alone or you'll regret it!'

'Now I _have_ to get a look at this thing up close,' Rodimus grinned. 'C'mon, what's the worst that could happen?'

'Famous last words.'

'You're just being cynical. We've got a Wrecker in our midst. I think we can handle ourselves.'

Springer didn't look up at the reference. He was slouching in the back of the shuttle, arms folded, staring at the ground. It was obvious that he was thinking about something hard, so everyone turned away uncomfortably. With the exception of Ironhide.

'What's up with you?' asked Ironhide. 'You've barely said anything since we left Athenia.'

Springer pursed his lips. He looked at him quite seriously. 'I just got a bad feeling about this.'

'Well, if the ship's haunted an' everything – '

'It's not that,' Springer dismissed. 'I just got a nagging feeling that the Decepticons are nearby. Y'know. Out there…watching our every move…waiting for the perfect time to rip us to pieces when we least expect it…'

'For crying out loud!' Rodimus interrupted. 'Just _chill_. I've had enough gloom and doom for one day, thank you very much. Now everyone just sit there and…and talk about the weather or something equally innocent, m'kay? Thanks.'

He took the ship off auto pilot and sped deeper into the vast field. While Springer didn't say another word, his distracted expression spoke for him

* * *

They found it exactly where Hubcap said it was. Right in the heart of a cluster of old ships that floated soundlessly through space. The moment he laid optics on it he knew it was the one.

The Passage was a shadow, a tribute to thousands of ships that had fought during the war. It appeared to be in comparatively good shape, yet the holes and the blackened haul showed that it had been in a huge firefight…and lost miserably. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that in every way, the ship echoed the stories of the rogue crew, filled with a sense of uncertainty and the unknown. That was what fascinated Rodimus. The Passage was a mystery he had to solve and the best way to do that was to possess it.

After orbiting it a few times, examining it from all angles, he brought the shuttle parallel to the Passage and pressed his faceplate against the window to get a better look. Just opposite of them was an excellent hole by which they could enter.

'This is great!' Rodimus exclaimed.

'This is a piece of junk,' said Red Alert.

'Then I guess you don't want to go exploring,' sang Rodimus.

Rodimus ducked back into the cabin.

'Alright, we're going on board,' he announced. 'At least I am. Anyone want to come?'

'We have a choice?' asked Red Alert. 'If we let you go, then you'll be on it, all alone, and if something happens, someone's going to blame us. I'm coming so I can keep an optic on you!'

'Well, you four can run off and be stupid,' said Brawn. 'I'm staying with the shuttle.'

'Suit yourself,' Rodimus shrugged.

The airlock slowly opened. There was a healthy gap between them and the hole. Rodimus took a running start and flew across it easily thanks to the lack of gravity, slamming against the side of the ship. When he was in, he waved to his undecided team before retreating inside.

He was guided only by his headlight. Even so, it didn't seem to help much. No matter where he directed it, the area seemed to be enveloped by the shadows. On first impression it looked like a flash fire had roared through here both literally and figuratively. Every inch of metal had been charred black. Because the hall curved up ahead, he couldn't see around the corner and was hesitant to proceed, hesitation that disappeared with the arrival of the remainder of the team with the exception of Brawn. They all felt it and they were all thinking it. Maybe they had laughed it off before, but when they saw these halls, it suddenly didn't seem so unbelievable to think that the Passage was haunted. If not by ghosts, by the events it had witnessed.

It wasn't long after this that they split into two groups to cover more ground; Springer and Ironhide went to the lower decks to check on the condition of the engines while Rodimus and Red Alert took to the upper decks. Never before had Rodimus been in a place that related such a sense of sadness and unfinished business. Everything was frozen in a moment of sheer chaos that had reduced a vessel of glory to this solitary shell without a crew. The two of them moved through the debris in silent, avoiding the fact that the Autobots who had once manned this place were no doubt dead, before departing to other parts of the ship.

They located the medical bay just down the hall, where they found shattered beakers and glass containers littering the floor, like every piece of equipment had spontaneously combusted. Rodimus knew from his research that cleaning crews had salvaged as much technology as they could from the Passage, so there was nothing else to see but shells of old computer consoles. The bay was connected to the main common room, where Rodimus found the furniture still in place. It was incredibly dark; a hazard in here considering that there were massive holes in the floor they had to jump over and nearly fell through more than once.

'Well, a bit of paint and I'm sure it'll look fine,' said Red Alert in an unnecessarily loud voice.

'That's starting to get on my nerves,' retorted Rodimus.

'Then I'm doing my job right.'

'Let's just take a look at the bridge.'

It took a while before they could find a way to get to the bridge. They found the elevator shaft already open, but the elevator unresponsive and blocking the door on the upper level. Instead, they found that part of the roof in one of the adjacent rooms had collapsed in on itself. Rodimus scrambled up the wreckage to the level up.

They came up onto a platform that overlooked the bridge as a whole. The layout was what was expected of ships of this class. Generally the bridge seemed compressed, like everything was too big for the space provided. From outside the windows Rodimus saw the poignant remains of the debris field. Pipes and wiring were still hanging off the ceiling, swinging as they had done for many stellar cycles, forever cursed to remain in shambles.

Slowly he moved forwards and grasped the railing. Had the captain of this vessel stood in this very spot, looking out those windows, only to see his end approaching? Had he stood here when he gave the order to abandon ship or to announce to his crew that they weren't going out without a fight? Had this been where his life had ended? Their stories had degraded with time until they'd been forgotten completely. Whoever they were, their legacy had been snuffed out so quickly that they'd left behind this relic and passed it down to the next generation. He knew at once that this was their ship and that to let this ship be slowly torn up into scrap pieces would be like burying what had happened here.

'…Would you like a minute alone?' asked Red Alert.

'You're ruining,' he snarled, 'the moment.'

'Oh, you mean the moment when your optics meet from the other side of the room?'

'Never mind,' Rodimus scoffed. 'This is obviously something you wouldn't understand. Anyways, I've already decided I'm getting this ship. We simply _have_ to have it.'

'Let me guess. It's a "fixer upper?"'

'Just,' Rodimus descended into the heart of the bridge, 'just try and picture it looking…_nice_.'

'Oh, I can picture that alright. I can also picture the cost.'

'I got credits.'

'Then you can go into debt.'

'Can you humour me?'

Red Alert took a good, long look at their surroundings. Rodimus hovered over her shoulder, helpless to do anything but hope for the best.

'I just don't know,' said Red Alert. 'If we do get attacked, I don't know if I want to rely on this thing. It's suffered a lot of damage and a lot of this equipment will need to be replaced.'

'We _could_ just dive into the department's budget…' he suggested.

'We already discussed that option and we agreed that that isn't a good idea.'

'Just to cover some of the costs, I mean! And – and maybe Hubcap can find us some good parts that we can use!'

'That still wouldn't be enough. You're going to need to hire repair crews to get this thing fixed up!'

'What about Wheeljack and Perceptor?' asked Rodimus.

'What about them? What do they have to do with anything?'

'Maybe they could help us reformat the ship.'

She looked at him firmly. 'What is it with mechs and the inherent need to buy something that's broken just so they can fix it?'

'Red Alert, this is history!' Rodimus argued. 'We're not just buying a ship, we're buying a piece of our past! Do you realize how ironic this is considering you're the one who lived through the Great War?'

'Please, don't remind me,' said Red Alert. 'Everyone seems to be under the impression that just because I lived through the height of the Great War, that makes me some sort of war hero. While medics were running about on the field being shot at, I was an intern picking apart the bodies of deceased Decepticons! I never even saw a live one! Nothing interesting, I assure you.'

'But Red Alert!' Rodimus whined. '_History_!'

'You think all this war stuff is some kind of game! I may have never seen a live Decepticon, but I _saw_ what Decepticons did to Autobots! Trust me. You're better off forgetting it.'

He wasn't sure whether to sympathize or to be frustrated with her. But whatever was really on Red Alert's mind, she promptly folded her arms and turned her back on him.

'We _do_ need a ship,' said Red Alert. 'But couldn't you get a ship that doesn't have a dark and mysterious past?'

He blinked. 'No.'

'…I'm not gonna win this argument, am I?'

'What tipped you off?'

Her mouth curled into an unpleasant scowl.

'So are you going to help or are you going to stand there and pout?' Rodimus asked. 'The first thing we can try to do is coordinate with Springer and Ironhide to get some power back online. Once we do that, we'll have to check the haul integrity to see if she's stable enough to tow back to Athenia.'

Red Alert looked to the ceiling, as if asking for some deity to strike her down. But she quickly relented and joined Rodimus at one of the consoles. He, silently pleased that he'd finally won an argument with her

* * *

Above them, the lights flicked on for the first time since the Great War. Shadows stretched across the bridge.

'There, you see?' Rodimus beamed. He pulled himself out from underneath the console to make eye contact with Red Alert, who was seated at a neighbouring science station. 'I knew it would work!'

'Alright, alright, no need to be cocky about it,' she snapped.

'Can you interface with the ship?' asked Rodimus.

She didn't immediately reply. Rodimus leaned on the console, patiently waiting for a response.

A nanoklik later, a holographic screen jumped up in front of them.

'Well, looks like this thing's not so helpless after all,' said Red Alert. 'The engines are damaged beyond repair. The communication array appears to be outdated but functional…That's odd.'

'What?'

'The ship's sending out a standard distress signal.'

'Better shut it up so we don't attract any unwanted visitors.'

'Done.'

'What about scanners? Can you assess haul integrity?'

'Most of the scanners are out, but considering factors such as age, size, and battle damage, I'd say that the haul will need to be stabilized before we move it. For that we need equipment we don't have with us.'

'It's settled, then!' Rodimus clapped his hands together. 'Contact Athenia and get them to send over a maintenance crew. The sooner we get back, the better.'

'Agreed.'

'I'm gonna go check on Springer and Ironhide.'

'You do that.'

Rodimus exited the bridge by the same way which they'd used to come in, only this time with a slight spring in his step. He was busy picturing their exalted return to Athenia and then proceeding with the extensive task of reformatting the Sojourner's Passage.

He managed to find safe passage to the lower decks. Or what was left of it. Apparently the lights here didn't work, so in the garbled darkness he saw only the remains of what had once been the engines. It was evident by the collapsed walkways that the engines had exploded, effectively crippling the Passage. Perhaps this is what had stopped it to begin with. Unfortunately, Springer and Ironhide were no where to be seen.

'Guys?' Rodimus called.

He took a step forwards.

Then he was violently pulled back. Two arms wrapped around his waist and lifted him high off the ground. Rodimus screamed. He instinctively kicked at whatever had him. He was dropped and he hit the floor struggling to inhale on account of the shock.

What came next was laughter. Rodimus stumbled to his feet and backed away from the 'bot who'd grabbed him.

'_Ironhide_!' Rodimus clutched his chest. 'Slaggit! Are you _trying_ to give me a spark attack?'

Ironhide was too busy laughing his head off to reply. He quickly calmed down. But the moment he laid optics on Rodimus, he started up again.

Shortly thereafter, Springer charged into view from the door. He glanced at Ironhide.

'What happened?' he asked. 'I heard someone scream.'

'What you heard was Ironhide's idea of fun,' snarled Rodimus. 'I didn't think it was that amusing, by the way…Where were you?'

'I was checking the scanners for R.A.,' Springer said. 'Hey, Ironhead, you could've told me you were gonna pull a fast one on Rodimus!'

By now Ironhide was able to stand up. He coughed. 'Sorry, Hot Rod, I _couldn't_ resist. Sorry. But the expression on your face – and the _scream_! It was just too perfect! Wish I'd gotten it on camera.'

'Thank goodness you didn't, or else I'd never hear the end of it,' Rodimus eyed Springer as he chuckled. 'Can we please get down to business? The maintenance crew from Athenia's going to be here in a few hours and we have to prep the ship for transport. That means stabilizing the haul integrity and the shields, if possible. So why don't you two _get to work_?'

'Gee, I don't see you doing anything,' retorted Springer.

'_Springer_!'

Springer snorted. He and Ironhide left the room, although his voice easily echoed back to him. 'Primus, I hate salvaging operations. Most of the time the Wreckers just had to show up somewhere an' 'bots would give you whatever you wanted.'

Rodimus rolled his viz scanners. He made a mental note to watch out for any pranks from Ironhide in the future. After surveying the destroyed engines a final time, he turned to leave.

That's when he got the distinct impression he was being watched.

He stopped in the doorway. He peered over his shoulder. Just as he did so, a small object rolled out of the darkness. Rodimus stopped it with his foot.

Kneeling down, Rodimus picked up the object. It was a cy-gar. But it wasn't one of the new, high-end, extremely expensive ones that Kup liked to chew on. This was extremely old. It must've been on board the ship, undisturbed until now. He rolled it between his fingers thoughtfully, vaguely thinking that he should call Springer and Ironhide back here. Just in case. On the other hand, this could be the part when another prank courtesy of a certain orange Autobot occurred.

'Not funny, Ironhide,' Rodimus said, in the event that this was an impending prank.

He turned on his headlight and aimed it into the darkness. Just in front of him, some banisters from the ceiling were loosely propped up on the side of the engine. Rodimus squinted.

The banisters shifted. They crashed down in front of him. Running feet.

'HEY!' Rodimus shouted. He drew out his bow and arrow. 'HEY! Just stop right there!'

Whoever it was, they didn't comply. A shadow darted out, a shadow that circled the room before stopping to Rodimus's far left. They charged. Letting out of a battle cry laced with a mixture of fear, he tackled Rodimus to the ground. Rodimus kicked him off. The stranger flew backwards, but easily did a backflip and landed, hunched over on the ground, and panting heavily.

He got a good look at his attacker. It was a mech. There wasn't anything truly distinctive about him aside from dents and scuff marks giving him a dishevelled, beaten-up appearance. What characterized him was the manic, terrified look behind his bright blue optics, like he was able to see something that Rodimus couldn't…and whatever that was, it scared the heck out of him. What was interesting was the Autobrand printed on his left shoulder.

'Oh,' Rodimus breathed a sigh of relief. 'For a minute there I thought you were a Decepticon.'

'Decepticon?' the stranger asked. In a flash he'd scrambled up to Rodimus. He was mere inches from his faceplate. 'Decepticon? Decepticon? No. Decepticons are way scarier. No. But they're meaner. Lot meaner. But you know what? You're trespassing – on – my – PROPERTY!' He pushed Rodimus back. 'You're with them, aren't you? Or maybe you're hiding from them, too. If that's the case, you can slag off, buddy! This is my hiding spot!'

'What are you talking – ?'

'I think the question is, what are YOU,' the Autobot jabbed a finger at him, 'talking about? '

'I asked you first,' Rodimus said dryly.

'I KNEW IT! You're with them! Eat FIRE!'

The Autobot aimed a pair of cannons mounted on his arms right at Rodimus. All that came out was a brief puff of smoke.

Rodimus folded his arms.

'C'mon!' the Autobot slammed his forearms against the wall. 'C'mon! Work!' Click. 'Okay, there we go.'

Flames rushed towards Rodimus. He barely had time to dive out into the corridor. The Autobot pursued him. He took a good swipe at Rodimus, a string of flames following his fist. He did it a second time. Then another. Rodimus dodged before putting his bow in between them. With his sheer strength he managed to knock the 'bot off balance. He delivered a good roundhouse kick to his side, then got down low and knocked him off his feet with the length of his bow. Rodimus raised it with the intention of hitting him in the chestplate.

With remarkable agility, the 'bot lifted himself up on one servo, narrowly missing Rodimus's attack. He twisted in the air and back flipped out of the way. Crouched on the ground he unleashed a blaze of heat. Rodimus felt the flames ripple past him. Then, his opponent emerged from the inferno. Rodimus ducked to avoid him. They grabbed each other's forearms. It put him in the perfect position. Rodimus head-butted him. The Autobot stumbled back, if only for a second, before jumping up, pushing off against the wall, and tackling Rodimus into the ground. They rolled over a few times. The Autobot managed to punch him across the face, but Rodimus soon got a hold of the Autobot's wrists. He held him there.

No good. The 'bot slammed Rodimus into the ground, lifted him up, and again smashed his head into the ground. Dazed, Rodimus was momentarily paralyzed, his vision wavering in and out of focus. It gave the 'bot the opportunity to pass over him and retreat into the depths of the ship.

All of a sudden, the sound Kup yelling at him to get back on his own two feet scared Rodimus straight. He leapt up and charged.

Although the Autobot was reasonably quick, Rodimus was faster on foot. He easily ran the Autobot down. They struggled. Rodimus got back up, dragging his opponent with him, and slammed the Autobot against the wall. He fumbled for a pair of cuffs.

'You've done this before,' remarked Rodimus. He continued to dig for some cuffs, but they conveniently kept slipping out of his reach.

'Look – look – look, just let me go,' the Autobot continued to struggle. 'You can have the hiding spot, really! Let me go!'

'No!'

'I said – LET ME GO!'

The Autobot elbowed Rodimus in the face. He secured the intruder's arms and pinned him against the wall.

'Absolutely not!' he shouted. 'Especially not after you trespassed on _my_ ship!'

'Your ship? Look, I didn't – I didn't know someone was on here, that's why I came here! Can you let me go?'

'No!'

It was apparent that the Autobot didn't seem to hear him, because he was too busy struggling, like a caged animal attempting to escape captivity. Rodimus realized that he couldn't hold him here. He managed to drag him to the nearest room and throw him inside. The exit sealed behind him. The Autobot jumped a control console in the center, putting a barrier between himself and Rodimus.

Rodimus approached him. The Autobot sidled to the right. Rodimus mirrored his movements. They danced around each other until Rodimus ended up chasing him around the control console, while the Autobot let out a rather pathetic, continuous scream. Soon, Rodimus stopped chasing him, but the stranger continued to run around in circles, until he finally was out of breath and he backed into the corner. In the semi-darkness, he gave Rodimus a death glare that betrayed nothing but resentment for his presence. Rodimus returned it.

He jumped at the Autobot.

The Autobot screamed and dived out of the way. Rodimus slammed his head against the wall.

'Will you just _stay still_ for a nanoklik? !' Rodimus demanded, nursing his throbbing head.

'No!' the Autobot wailed. 'Don't come near me! I mean it!'

'Okay, fine, I'm staying here!' Rodimus put up his servos defensively.

'Okay, stay there.'

'I'm staying.'

'Then don't move.'

'That's the general definition of "staying."'

'Okay.' The Autobot edged towards the door. 'Okay.'

The Autobot made a run for it. Rodimus quickly blocked his path. He then advanced, jabbing a finger into the chest of the Autobot and forcing him to go back.

'Look, I don't know _what_ your problem is, but we're supposed to be on the same side!' Rodimus shouted. 'I want to know your name, I want to know why you attacked me, and I want to know what the _Pits_ you're doing on my ship, and if you _don't_ tell me, I am going to think of the nastiest thing I can do to you…and then I'll do it!'

He backed the Autobot right into the wall, pinning him between his arms. The Autobot searched for an escape route, only none presented themselves.

'Now,' Rodimus glared. 'Tell me your name!'

The stranger didn't answer.

'Tell me your _name_!' Rodimus emphasized each word.

The Autobot looked a little weary. 'Well, alright, but I should let you know that I don't kiss on a first date.'

Rodimus lowered his arms and adamantly resisted the urge to strangle this guy.

'_Name_?' he pressed.

'…Okay, it's Hot Shot.'

'Hot Shot,' Rodimus repeated it. 'What are you doing here?'

'I dunno. What are _you_ doing here?'

'Are you trying to make me hate you?'

'I'm hiding.'

'From what?'

'Shh!' Hot Shot waved his hands frantically at him. He cocked his head, listening. 'Do you realize this place is swarming with Decepticons?'

'Decepticons?' Rodimus scoffed. 'I don't think so. They wouldn't try to cross the Galactic Rim. In any case, why would they want to? If they do that, there's millions of Autobots that will be none too pleased to see them.'

'Yeah, yeah, that's what you _think_,' Hot Shot orbited him. 'That's what they want you to think! See here, buddy, those 'cons are everywhere. And they can get you! At any time! In any place! The best thing you can do to avoid them is hide, because when they find you…'

He cut a finger across his throat.

'Off with your head!' he cackled.

'Wait,' said Rodimus. 'Are you telling me you're being chased by Decepticons?'

Hot Shot averted his gaze.

'Are they nearby? Did you lead them here? !'

'I didn't think anyone was on this stupid ship, okay? !' Hot Shot snarled. 'It's not my fault you - shh! Be quiet!'

Normally Rodimus didn't follow the orders of anyone remotely demented, but this time he did. The ship shuddered, as if something had just brushed up against it.

'Oh, _Primus_!' the Autobot threw himself against the wall, his voice a mere hiss. 'It's _them_!'

Rodimus shuffled over to the door and took a quick look out. Without thinking, he ventured into the hall.

He briefly scoured the area to find it clear. Hot Shot hovered over his shoulder the whole time, waiting for him to draw to a conclusion. But except for the lack of lighting, there didn't appear to be anything amiss, and for a brief moment Rodimus questioned why he was acting on the paranoid delusions of a stowaway. He was prepared to cuff Hot Shot…until he stepped out into a crossroad and spotted a beam of light traveling right towards him.

Shoving Hot Shot into the shadows, Rodimus willed himself to become invisible. He heard footsteps slowly approaching them. Rodimus peeked around the corner. All he needed to see was a flash of red.

Quickly he pulled back into the shadows and gawked at Hot Shot, who gave him a candid look. Suppressing instincts that told him to run for it, ignoring his spark which thudded in his throat, Rodimus chanced a second look out. All he saw were masses of black highlighted by bright headlights that banished all sense of obscurity.

'Alright, let's make this quick!' Rodimus jumped at the sound of the voice, which exploded out of the darkness without forewarning. 'You three search the ship. Let me know when you find the Autobot. Oil Slick, you're with me.'

'Why do I have to be with you?' asked someone else, presumably Oil Slick.

'Don't you _dare_ say anything!' barked the first Decepticon. 'It's thanks to you that we're behind schedule in the first place!'

'It's thanks to me that we're actually doing something.'

'…Alright, fine, if you insist, you go with them and I'll go alone. Be back on the ship within the hour. If you're late, you get left behind. Move out!'

He listened to the sounds of them moving away. Rodimus drew two arrows to his bow.

'Don't!' Hot Shot hissed. He slapped down Rodimus's bow. 'You can't fight these guys!'

'I can take 'em,' Rodimus countered.

'Look, these guys…these guys aren't really _like_ other Decepticons.'

'Well, I'm not like any other Autobot,' Rodimus smirked.

He tried to begin a pursuit, but not before Hot Shot blocked his path.

'You don't want to do that,' chimed Hot Shot. 'Trust me!'

Rodimus had had enough. He grabbed Hot Shot and dragged him over to an open door, which led into a cramped storage space. While Hot Shot resisted, he was no match for him; he was helpless as Rodimus shoved him inside.

'Don't move, don't talk,' Rodimus ordered. 'Savvy?'

'But – ' Hot Shot started.

He shut the door in Hot Shot's face. Relieved that he was finally on his own, he hurried out, but was disappointed to see that the Decepticons had already left the area. However, he didn't have to go far before he saw a flash of light that indicated that the Decepticons were on the move. He pursued it to the next corner, where he stopped.

Someone tapped on his shoulder. His immediate thought was "Decepticon" or "Hot Shot," but instead he looked over and found Springer and Ironhide lingering over him. Springer shrugged slightly, as if to ask what was going on.

Rodimus mouthed "Decepticons."

An excited look crossed Springer's faceplate. He made to attack. Rodimus shoved him back and signalled a retreat. They silently argued with each other. It took the combined effort of Rodimus and Ironhide to push him to the next crossroad, disappearing around the bend nanokliks before the light shined down the hall they'd left behind. From there they kept going until they fled into an empty room and hid just inside the broken down entranceway. He heard distant voices too far away to make out any distinctive words. Again, Rodimus chanced a look out, only to duck back in just as quickly. Moving towards them was a blackened figure moving lightly. No doubt a scout sent to weed out the Autobot scum. He would have one shot at this.

The scout darted past. Rodimus easily reached out and grabbed them. They began to scream, but he wrapped both hands around their mouth and threw them into the ground just inside the door. Rodimus drew two arrows on them.

'You imbeciles! It's _me_!'

'What?' Rodimus blinked. 'Red Alert?'

'No, I'm a terrifying Decepticon!'

'Whoops,' Rodimus helped her up. 'Sorry.'

'Well, just give me a head's up next time you randomly attack someone,' Red Alert brushed off imaginary dust, 'We've got a big, _big_ problem!'

'I noticed,' said Rodimus. 'How many?'

'Five or six. Their vessel appeared out of no where and pulled up alongside the ship. I cut power and ran all the way down here because for _some_ reason or another, I was concerned about your safety…'

'Any sign of Brawn?'

'He mysteriously vacated the area the moment the Decepticons appeared.'

A beam of light whisked by their location. Rodimus pulled Red Alert just out of sight. They remained perfectly still as someone passed dangerously close to the room. And it certainly wasn't an Autobot this time.

'Well, if I know Brawn, he's got his own agenda,' whispered Rodimus. 'Let's take these guys!'

'Are you crazy?' Red Alert grabbed him by the collar. 'You're asking for us to be offlined! I say we try to get a hold of the Elite Guard.'

'And how would you suggest we do that without the 'cons tracing the signal?'

'We have processors! Now, I know you aren't accustomed to using yours, but if we just think for a minute, we'll come up with something! Honestly…'

Rodimus sighed. 'Let's face it, Alert. You are simply no fun whatsoever. You don't want a ship. You don't want to fight Decepticons…'

'Fun? ! This isn't about being _fun_! This is about getting out of here with our heads still attached to our _bodies_!'

'Hey, this is a team. Maybe we should ask the others for their opinions. Springer, what do you think we should do?'

Springer didn't answer. He glared at them. Then he burst out of the room, let out a battle cry, and chased down the Decepticon that had passed them. Rodimus didn't even get the luxury of saying "I told you so" before there was a horrific crash, announcing that Springer had just trampled the intruder. Rodimus and Ironhide chased after him, only to find that the Decepticon was on the ground and Springer was looming over him.

'_Primus_,' Springer hissed.

'What is it?' Rodimus asked.

Springer held up the dazed 'con.

'This is Oil Slick,' said Springer. 'You realize what this means?'

'No. What?'

At the sound of running footsteps, Rodimus wheeled around. Headlights found him in the darkness. Decepticons. He could tell by the outlines, the enormous statures, and the smell. There were two of them. Each had weapons directed right at their gang.

'Reach for the sky!' one of them cackled, branding two blasters threateningly.

The other glared at the 'con with the sense of humour.

'What?' the first asked.

'Is that you Spittor?' Springer jumped.

'Hey, Springer!' laughed. Spittor

Rodimus wasn't so distracted that he didn't take the time to gawk at Springer. Of course only he would be on a first name basis with a Decepticon.

'Long time, no see!' continued Spittor. 'Last time I saw you, you were busy beatin' the slag out of us Decepticons!'

'That's funny. Last time I saw you, I was lookin' at your back.'

'What can I say? At least I'm alive today! See you're keeping new company.'

'Same with you,' said Springer. He glowered at the voiceless Decepticon. 'Why are you with Cyclonus?'

'Now, now, it wouldn't be much of a story if I told you everything, would it?'

Cyclonus gestured for Springer to drop Oil Slick. He did so, but not before he kneed Oil Slick's helmet. He crumpled to the floor.

They were at a stand off. Rodimus kept his arrows focused on the Decepticons. Each party waited for the enemy to make a move. If he listened hard enough he could hear the sparks of the others – Autobot and Decepticon alike – beating wildly. At that point no one could move and neither was willing to make the first one. And it was at that very moment – when all four of them were on edge, waiting for the action to break out – that the lights above them flickered and then snuffed out altogether. They were thrown into darkness.

There was a scuffle. Rodimus fired his arrows. He must've hit someone because they yelped in surprise. Sensing an impending attack, he dodged a sword that grazed his head by mere inches. Then he was surrounded. Someone was right on top of him. He hooked his opponent's head in his bow. Rodimus kneed them, then threw them into the wall, before flying around and stabbing another opponent in the chest. He quickly backed off as his viz scanners began to compensate for the lack of lighting. He saw Springer in the middle of it all, sword to sword with Cyclonus. Spittor was incapacitated, but just getting back on his feet, before Ironhide delivered a good kick to his head.

An explosion. The floor buckled underneath Rodimus's feet. Smoke suddenly rushed through the corridor, and out of this smoke, Ironhide rocketed towards him. Rodimus ducked in time to avoid him. Ironhide slammed into the wall behind him, leaving behind a massive hole. As he stood, the dust cleared, and he saw Springer smoothly and gracefully guide a sword across Cyclonus's chest before shooting him. Cyclonus fell back. That's when they both saw the source of the sudden excitement.

It was another Decepticon, although "tank" would've probably been a better word to describe him. Taking up much of the space in the corridor, he rubbed his fists together menacingly. He shadowed even Springer.

But Springer didn't seem to notice it. Time slowed down. It was apparent by the abrupt mixture of panic and rage that emerged in his optics that he knew this one. Rodimus had seen the look before. It was the look Kup sometimes got in his face whenever he was relating an old war story, an intense expression that betrayed that he was relieving a great sense of pain. In those moments he had to confront every time he related a tale. It was clear that Kup felt nothing but disgust and hatred for the Decepticons. Springer was reliving something now, something he'd rather forget, but this new Decepticon embodied every dark aspect of that emotion.

'You…' Springer hissed.

Springer let out a cry and launched forwards. The Decepticon didn't seem to have been prepared for a sudden attack. The sheer force knocked both of them over.

A glint of light caught his attention. Rodimus looked over his shoulder and saw something moving in the next hall over. And it was way too big for it to be an Autobot.

'Springer, keep them busy!' Rodimus ordered.

Springer was too busy shooting the Decepticon in the face to reply.

At the next intersection, he chanced a look to see an empty corridor. Nevertheless, he ventured in that general direction. He came across an area where the roof had collapsed, blocking the corridor. This was the only direction they could've gone in.

After taking a look around, he discovered a hole in the wall which exposed an area that was otherwise cut off from the rest of the ship. Rodimus crept in. When he wasn't attacked, he almost felt disappointed.

'…Where'd you go?' Rodimus asked the obvious question.

Nearby he spotted an empty black rectangle on the wall, soon revealed to be an empty elevator shaft. He peered over the edge. It only went down for one level, and the door at the bottom cast an eerie, blank white glow across every nook of the shaft. Rodimus easily climbed down. He hit the ground noiselessly and rolled into the bowels of the ship.

The darkness seemed to sparkle. He didn't dare use his headlight in the event that he wasn't alone, so he couldn't tell what was causing it until he crept over to the nearest wall. Gently, he touched it. It was ice. He could vaguely see his distorted image looking right back at him. Wherever this was, Rodimus didn't like it. He didn't like it because he was literally fighting blind and it was clear that the Decepticon had prior knowledge of the layout. Furthermore there seemed to be something hanging in the air, whether physical or not, which caused his spark to race and his judgement to falter. Kup often told him that in the heat of battle, distraction could mean death, but this was the first time Rodimus had experienced it for himself. And the presence of ice, combined with a metaphysical presence, served as very good distractions.

He tried to focus. Venturing further down a narrow corridor, Rodimus examined the fabricated ice that existed in patches on the floor and on the walls. His audio receptors were wide open to any sound of that bulky Decepticon. Somehow he didn't pick up anything. Until he felt light vibrations in the floor. Now weight was something that you couldn't hide. He grinded to a halt. Rodimus concentrated his arrows around the next bend, keeping his body as close to the wall as possible. His spark raced wildly. But after a seemingly endless amount of time, nothing happened.

He inched forwards.

He saw her reflection in the ice on the opposite wall. She, too, had stopped at the bend, and only when he spotted it did she move.

Rodimus dived into an open door that had been framed and overcome with ice. He slipped past a massive machine that was the mantelpiece of the new battleground. While he didn't have time to take it all in, the room was cylindrical in shape and seemed to extend upwards. In the center was a device of sorts that inclined a massive base connected to consoles through tubes that stretched out from the aforementioned base. He retreated behind the base and ducked down.

He heard the door open.

The Decepticon moved into the room. He saw her reflected off the ice in the walls, creating an eerie mirror image. Rodimus drew out an arrow.

When she came parallel to the spot where Rodimus crouched, he launched himself at her.

In one, smooth motion, she grabbed him, turned, and thrust him onto the ground. He was on his feet in an instant, prepared to ram right into her. She easily grabbed him around the throat and held him off the ground. Rodimus jabbed an arrow into her servo. Hitting the ground, he quickly backed off and fired. The force of the two arrows hitting her chest at such close range caused her to fall right over.

While she was distracted, Rodimus circled around the far side of the machine and fled out the door. Running wasn't normally his style, but a fight in such closed quarters gave her the upper hand.

Fortunately he didn't have to go far to find a larger space. The hall only went on for a few more yards before he came to a pair of double doors that were easily frozen over. He skidded to a halt.

The Decepticon appeared behind him. She armed her cannon and fired.

The charge flew towards him at an alarming speed. Rodimus simply sidestepped it.

His audio receptors screamed as the charge collided with the doorway. A mixture of twisted metal, smoke, and ice burst out of the other side. Rodimus used it as cover to get a head start.

These were the bowels of the ship. No one had had the time to come down here. All Rodimus saw was a wide, open space obviously once used for storage, on account of the towering piles of crates and dying energon cubes staked around him like some strange city. Pillars were situated every few meters. The various props created effective hiding spaces. He took advantage of this. In a flash he'd scrambled up and over one of the mountains and disappeared on the other side. The ground trembled violently as the Decepticon ran right past him.

Rodimus crept to the next alley, not making a noise as he scurried over. His bow tart, he swung around and pointed it right down the length of the makeshift road, prepared to engage her. He could see all the way to the end with the dim but adequate lighting. In the other direction it was the same story. For a split second he was tempted to hide so he could assess his opponent, but only for that split second. Instead, Rodimus placed himself right underneath a light, daring for them to show themselves.

The footsteps suddenly stopped.

He peered around suspiciously.

A shadow crept over him. He didn't get any time to let out an arrow. A massive explosion sent him and several boxes hurtling in the opposite direction. Using his servo for balance, Rodimus skidded to a stop.

For the first time he got the opportunity to take in the appearance of his opponent, and she was an easy target. She was right ahead of him, slightly smaller than Blackout, but with a distinct difference. He could tell by the way she held herself, by the way she looked at him with disdain, that he was facing someone who was used to killing an Autobot in one blow. This was a Decepticon whose mere presence demanded respect.

Rodimus charged towards her. The Decepticon took a good swing at him. Pushing off her arm, he did a backflip in the air, shot two arrows into her face, and landed on the other side of her. She stumbled for a minute before tearing the arrows out.

That's when he recognized her.

'Hey, I know you!' Rodimus exclaimed.

The Decepticon again tried to hit him. She missed and went off balance. Rodimus ducked to the other side.

'You're General Strika!' he beamed. 'General of Destruction, right? I read about you in history class. In fact, I did a whole essay on your campaigns. Fancy seeing you here!'

This time she'd learned her lesson. She slowly stalked him. Then, when the time was right, she sprung forwards. Rodimus slashed an arrow at her face. Energon sprayed onto him. He didn't have time to be revolted. In slow motion, Strika attempted to swipe at him. Again, Rodimus easily dodged her. He retreated, firing arrows whenever possible, while seeking an escape route. If he could get behind her that could be enough to finish her, but one punch from those massive fists, and that was it. He backed up against suspicious metal containers. Rodimus peered into them to see a load of grenades.

He hesitated. He grabbed one, pulled out the pin, and threw it as hard as he could.

It exploded in mid-air. The denotation ripped through the cargo hold. Rodimus was thrust back. But the shock died down quickly, leaving behind a thick black cloud hovering where the Decepticon had been moments before.

The cloud dispersed. Strika flew towards him at an alarming speed.

Rodimus dived between her legs and ascended a pile of crates. Just as she turned, he grabbed the metal rods intertwined over the hold. He disappeared into the shadows, balanced precariously over the tremendous Decepticon now peering up at him. While this was hardly a permanent solution, he sought out some way of fighting her without it ending in grisly defeat.

Strika raised a servo towards him. He heard the sound of her cannons charging. Rodimus leapt onto the next pole, narrowly avoiding a bright flash of light that left behind a scorch mark. He continued to circle her as she continuously fired at what was no doubt just a shadow. However, after a few shots she gave up and simply scanned the ceiling. But in the wrong direction. Rodimus took the opportunity to sneak up behind her.

'Coward!' Strika barked. 'Come down here and fight me!'

'No, thanks,' said Rodimus. 'I feel a lot safer up here.'

She wheeled towards his voice and fired. Rodimus jumped out of the way and remained perfectly still.

'You can't stay up there,' Strika sang.

'Yes, I can,' Rodimus chimed. 'You're the one who's breaking the law in any case.'

'Do not recite politics at me!' snapped Strika. 'When I get your servos on you, I'll – '

Rodimus sneaked up behind her and jumped. He landed on her back, twirling an arrow in his hands. He prepared to thrust it as deep into her head as possible. Strika bucked wildly. He lost his grip. She reached up and grabbed his wrists.

She threw him into the ground. The energy was sucked out of his body in an instant. In that second he lost all sense of reality, all sense of sensation except the flash of pain that spread like a plague to all parts of him. But this couldn't be over. Rodimus forced himself up onto all fours, knowing that Strika was watching him, and enjoying every second of it.

'That hurt,' he croaked.

'It was supposed to.'

Rodimus tried to stand. Strika used her foot to shove him back down. A high-pitched whining noise announced that she was charging her cannons again.

'No one has put up this big a fight in quite a while.' Rodimus felt the barrel of the cannon meet his head. 'Be sure to let me know if this hurts even more.'

He felt a surge of panic. He struggled.

There was a sudden bang. Strika's weight shifted, though not enough for him to force her foot off. What he did manage to do was turn his head to take in the rather amusing scene above him. Strika had been stopped by someone who'd leapt out of no where and now latched onto her head, his hands covering her optics.

'Guess who? !' Hot Shot exclaimed.

Strika pulled Hot Shot off as easily as if he were an insect. She instead pointed her cannon right at him.

'Strika!' It was a voice that saved both their lives, but it was not the voice of a member of Team Athenia. Rodimus instinctively knew from the raspy edge that it was all Decepticon. It sounded distant. For a nanoklik he thought Strika was going to ignore them and shoot anyways. Instead, she sighed and turned towards the unseen source.

'What do you want? !' Strika bellowed.

'We have to move!' the voice shouted back. 'Elite Guard! One of them must've got a message out!'

'Let them come!'

'You can stay here if you want, but _I'm_ following orders!'

Strika paused.

She grabbed Rodimus's arm and threw him. He slammed into a pile of crates. Out of the corner of his optic he saw her disappearing out of sight. Rodimus rolled back onto his feet and pursued her shadow, briefly wondering how someone her size could stay just out of sight so effortlessly. He slowed down, about to give up.

The chase resumed when a distant scream carried over. Hot Shot.

The scream renewed the adrenaline. He flew blindly through semi-darkness, guided a soft, orange glow that abruptly filled the storage room, illuminating each corner, each box, each object within its reach. Soon the glow became so strong that the shadows of Strika and a thinner Decepticon were imprinted on the floor. Rodimus only ran faster, so that everything became a blur.

Veering around the next corner, he was momentarily blinded by the flames of light that escaped. It was only fragmented by Strika and her companion. They were running right for it. Rodimus vaguely saw a mass of orange and yellow flaring up from a jagged hole. Then they were swallowed by it. Though he ran forwards in a last-ditch attempt to catch them, he skidded to a stop as a shockwave hit his face. It wasn't enough to force him over, but it was enough to keep him at bay. It was a ship. The glow had been from the burning, polluted engines of a Decepticon ship that sent a burst of heat into the contained cargo bay before lifting off and gliding away from the Sojourner's Passage. The moment it was far enough away, Rodimus went as far forwards as he could, leaning over a sudden drop in a massive hole in the haul. From there he saw two ships. He saw the Decepticon ship quickly moving away. He also saw a white ship appearing in the distance, the familiar Autobot insignia branded on it.

Rodimus wasn't sure to be relieved or disappointed, but whatever he felt, he already knew that they were too late to catch the Decepticon ship. Their ship swerved away from the Passage and headed off just as the Elite Guard ship started firing on it. With the sound of a couple of energy pulses firing, both ships moved away from the Passage. Seconds later, a third appeared. It was the shuttle. It pursued the Decepticon ship alongside the Elite Guard, until both veered out of sight. Rodimus hovered in the hole.

Soon the shuttle reappeared and stopped in front of the hole. The airlock opened to reveal Brawn, casually leaning against the entrance.

'I _told_ you so,' Brawn deadpanned.

'It wasn't that bad,' said Rodimus. 'We still got a ship, don't we?'

'I think you got bigger things to worry about.'

'What do you mean? The Decepticons left. Danger's gone.'

'It's not the Decepticons you should be afraid of.'

Rodimus followed Brawn's outstretched finger. The white underbelly of the Elite Guard ship dwarfed the Sojourner's Passage as it slowly situated itself right above the ship. A shadow was cast over them.

* * *

'I've told you once, I've told you twice, and I'll tell you again and again until it gets hammered into that thick cranium of yours.'

Rodimus leaned back in his chair, feet on the table, looking this "Longarm Prime" right in the optic. He wasn't sure what this guy's problem was. He was making it seem like he had done something wrong, like it was somehow his fault that Decepticons had crossed the Galactic Rim. But he was now trapped under a beam of white light in an otherwise completely dark room. This was a precarious situation far more dangerous than the Decepticons. Yet, instead of fretting over how dire this looked, Rodimus was confident in the fact that he knew nothing. He had nothing to hide. Longarm could yell at him until he was red in the faceplate; he couldn't pin _anything_ on Rodimus.

There was something about Longarm Prime he didn't like. Maybe it was just the way he was treating _him_ like the bad guy or perhaps it had something to do with the edge of cockiness. Maybe they were too much alike to remotely enjoy each other's company. One thing was sure: Rodimus was fairly certain that Longarm was trying to paint a false picture of Rodimus's character. His instincts told him to avoid associating with their character. Not that he had much of a choice.

'Those Decepticons came to _us_,' Rodimus affirmed. 'We didn't "attract" them in any way!'

'So you didn't sent out a secret message instruction the Decepticons to meet you there, and you didn't pass along sensitive information, and you _didn't_ know they would be there,' Longarm leaned forwards. 'So what exactly _were_ you doing so close to the Galactic Rim?'

'Fine, I'll tell you again,' said Rodimus. 'I needed a ship. There was a ship in the scrap yard I knew I could reformat. I went to get the ship. The Decepticons showed up. We fought the Decepticons. The Decepticons left when you arrived. That's what happened. Nothing more, nothing less.'

'What about that Autobot you mentioned was already on board? Hot Shot? Did you know him?'

'Never saw him before.'

'And he went with the Decepticons?'

'Well, he didn't go willingly.'

'How do you know that?'

'The terrified screams kinda gave it away.'

'Why did you go to the trouble of going to a scrap yard to get a ship?'

'…Is this a debriefing or an interrogation?'

'Answer the question.'

'You wanna know why?' asked Rodimus. 'Try reading the report I sent to Cybertron Command shortly before we left Athenia! Primus, if I was a double agent, why the slag would I let the government know when I was going out to meet Decepticons? Really, do I have to do your job for you or what? I got a good thing going for me. I've got no reason to betray Autobots. Plus, if you're seriously trying to make it seem like I'm a traitor, I can tell you now that a _lot_ of Autobots are going to have something to say about that. I dare you to try and make it stick.'

Longarm didn't respond.

'...Unless,' Rodimus paused, 'this has nothing to _do_ with loyalty.'

'Did Hot Shot seem to be lying at any point?' asked Longarm. 'Did at any point seem like he may be collaborating with the Decepticons?'

'You're changing the subject!' exclaimed Rodimus.

'Are you going to answer or not?'

'Maybe I don't want to answer any more, especially when they have nothing to do with what's really going on here, whatever that is. In any case, can I have my ship back now?'

Longarm narrowed his optics. 'A lack of cooperation may lead to some trouble for you.'

'…What kind of trouble?'

'Oh, nothing,' Longarm shrugged. 'You want to be in the Elite Guard, yes? But you can't do that in your current position. Maybe in a few stellar cycles you could transfer departments. On the other hand, some 'bots could make those few stellar cycles very difficult. You could be demoted. Or receive another assignment. Or there could be a scandal of sorts and you could be forced to resign your commission.'

'Is that a threat?' demanded Rodimus.

'An implication, nothing more.'

'Well, if I get _fired_,' Rodimus smirked, 'I might make things very difficult for _you_. One of my team mates _is_ a Wrecker.'

'A threat?'

'I believe your terminology is "implication."'

In truth Rodimus had no leverage over the Wreckers, but he wasn't about to let Longarm know that.

'Can I have my ship now?' asked Rodimus. 'And I'll take my team, too. Where are they, anyways?'

'They're being debriefed.'

'You mean they're being interrogated?'

'I mean they're being debriefed.'

'Well, whatever you want to call it, when can we get back to our posts?'

'…You are playing a _very_ dangerous game here, you realize that?'

'Really? I thought I was just playing a game. Hey, instead of interrogating me and my team, shouldn't you be out catching the Decepticons who crossed the border? But who am I to say? Tons of other 'cons have broken the treaty before. But it's not like you're an official part of the Elite Guard, isn't that right? You head Cybertron Intelligence, so there's obviously something more going on around here. I wonder what that is…'

'Nothing suspicious is going on,' said Longarm in a tone that betrayed otherwise. 'This is just protocol.'

'And I guess treating innocent Autobots like criminals is protocol, too?'

'Can we get back to my questions?'

'I answered them.'

'I got a new one.'

'Well, _now_ we're getting somewhere! Shoot.'

'Did the Decepticons appear to be looking for anything in particular when they were on board that ship?'

'They were probably looking for that escaped Autobot.'

'Anything else?'

'I dunno, maybe,' shrugged Rodimus. 'I don't think they got time to look around; my team gave them a pretty hard time. So if they did want something other than that escaped Autobot, they didn't get it, I assure you.' He fixed Longarm with a serious expression. 'Now, look, I don't know _what_ the heck is going on here and I know you can't tell me, but whatever it is, my team doesn't have the answers. We were just at the wrong place at the wrong time.'

'I knew that from the beginning,' said Longarm. He stood up. 'But I suggest you keep an optic on your team mates and an optic out for Team Chaar. They might try to track down your team.'

'What makes you think they'll try that?'

Longarm turned his back on Rodimus and headed to the door.

'That's all the questions I have for you,' said Longarm. 'You and your team will be allowed to return to your stations and your ship will be towed back to Athenia.'

With a question still hanging on his tongue, Rodimus watched Longarm leave, as swiftly and as vaguely as his department.


	11. Suburban Black

**Suburban Black**

Springer jerked himself awake. He'd woken up on account of his racing spark and his internal cooling system working overtime, on account of the dreams he'd been plagued with during the night. Yet when he tried to remember them, all he could conjure up was an endless haze of red and a feeling of unfounded guilt.

He rolled onto his feet and immediately regretted the action. If anything, it made the headache worse. Springer recovered quickly and got his bearings. He'd stayed in the barracks in the back of their headquarters, having been on call overnight. Not that anything exciting had happened. Springer almost resented that it had been a quiet evening. At least if he'd been handling some civil unrest he would've actually been doing something instead of worrying about what Rodimus was going to do next.

He knew what Rodimus was up to, Springer reflected solemnly. Rodimus's every free hour had been devoted to that stupid little ship in the nearby docks. At random – mostly inconvenient – times Rodimus would rope one or two or everyone on the team into helping with the restoration process. The Passage had turned into a pain in the fan belt and Springer would do anything short of killing Rodimus to get him to shut up about it. Everyone else could all say in mutual agreement that they were glad that Rodimus hadn't shown up with more work for them to do. That didn't stop Springer from making a point to stay out of mind and out of sight.

This was his reason for entering the common room only after hovering just around the corner to see if Rodimus was in the room. Instead, all he found was Brawn and Ironhide wrestling over the remote and the sound of a muffled voice coming from the other room.

'Is he here?' asked Springer.

'Hasn't shown up,' said Brawn. Having won the struggle, he promptly started flicking through the channels randomly.

'Thank _Primus_,' Springer sat next to him. '…Is that Red Alert I hear?'

'Who else would it be?'

'…Who's she talkin' to?

'All I know is that it isn't one of us, so I'm not complaining.'

'Is it important?'

'What do you care?'

'Just curious.'

Brawn looked a little skeptical, but fortunately seemed to decide to drop the subject.

'I'm just glad she's keeping busy,' said Brawn. 'Keeps her out of the way, if you know what I mean. Now, if only the Passage had that same effect on Rodimus. Just you wait. He'll come waltzing in here any minute now and make us work on our day off.'

'When does he think the ship'll be done?'

'If he keeps those crews working around the clock, a month, maybe two,' said Brawn. 'I know I won't be complaining when it's done an' over with.'

'Then maybe he'll shut up about it.'

'Don't count on it.'

It was at that very moment that Rodimus trudged in, in all his glory. He was covered in patches of oil, while he left behind black footprints on the otherwise spotless floor. He looked oddly pleased with himself.

'Guess what?' he sang.

'This is a permanent look for you?' Brawn didn't miss a beat.

'I'm in a good mood, so I'm going to ignore that,' Rodimus said. 'The Passage is (almost) in working condition! Sort of.'

'And what exactly do you mean by "sort of?"'

'I mean, it's almost sort of working,' clarified Rodimus. 'Sure, there's a few glitches, but it won't be long now. So who wants to take it for a test run? Okay, maybe it isn't a test run – maybe we're just towing it around a bit, but think of it! It'll be the first time this ship's moved of her own free will in centuries!...Kind of…Springer? Brawn?...Anybody?' No one answered. 'Well, don't get up all at once. Fine. If you guys want to be spoil sports, Ironhide and I will go enjoy the ship by _ourselves_.'

'Wait, what?' Ironhide looked up.

'That's right,' Rodimus sauntered back to the entrance. 'We will be out on the Passage if anyone needs us. Come on, Ironhide.'

'But I – well, uh…okay.' Giving the others a rather desperate, pleading expression, Ironhide got to his feet and followed Rodimus out.

'Well, I'm gonna get out of here before he comes back,' Brawn announced. 'Coming, Springer?'

Springer shook his head.

'Okay, have fun with the doctor.'

That was the last thing Springer heard before Brawn vacated the premises. Springer remained where he was to brood over his loss, until he realized that it wasn't completely quiet.

Of course. Red Alert. She was still chatting with someone over the comm. link and she certainly wasn't using her indoor voice. Having nothing better to do, he decided to investigate and went over to her laboratory. When he entered he was suddenly hit with the sound of her voice.

'It won't work!' Red Alert exclaimed. 'I don't give a slag what Perceptor says!...Well, tell him that if he wants it to mingle with the mortals, he's going to have to develop some sense of understanding of emotions…and studying them like insects doesn't count! Primus, I can't believe he…Of course I know what I'm doing; what do you think I went to medical school for?'

She didn't even notice him. She was sitting at her desk with her back to the door, gazing distractedly at a collection of monitors. As Springer approached, he saw that they displayed complicated blueprints of what appeared to be some sort of rocket or blaster accompanied by test results presented in various diagrams. He silently remarked on the names she had mentioned – Wheeljack and Perceptor. Two members of the Ministry of Science who had worked on several classified projects in the past. Springer had briefly met them back in the glory days of the war, but now the pair lived in relative seclusion (and safety) within the Metroplex…with one of their few outside contacts sitting right before him.

'Wheeljack, you're babbling,' said Red Alert. 'You're almost as bad as my idiotic team mates. No sense of culture whatsoever…No, it does not matter if it creates a loud explosion, what matters is that – '

Flailing her arms around wildly in a mixture of grief and annoyance, Red Alert hit Springer right in the chest plate. She gasped.

'I'll call you back!' she shouted.

Red Alert slammed a fist down on the console. Immediately the monitors went black. Slowly, she rose and leaned against the desk to face Springer.

'What?' she asked calmly.

'What was that?' inquired Springer.

'What was what?'

'All those diagrams and blueprints and whatever.'

'Stuff.'

'That doesn't say a lot.'

'Stuff that doesn't concern you.'

'Why? Is it secret?'

'Ye - _no_.'

'Is it some sort of weapon?'

'Don't be ridiculous.'

'Blaster? Rocket? It is a biological weapon?'

'It's none of your business!' Red Alert yelled. 'Now get out!'

'Does this mean you're not gonna tell me what you're doing?'

'OUT!' Red Alert shoved him towards the door. 'OUT! OUT! OUT!'

The moment he was out, she slid the door behind him and sealed it. Springer was left staring at the metal. Again, the muffled sound of her shouting – however subdued – was heard. He knelt and pressed his audio receptor close to the crack underneath the door. Unfortunately the doctor had made renewed efforts to keep her voice low, so while he was able to hear her talking, he couldn't distinguish any words.

Springer stood back up. He could break down the door.

_Back up, Springer_. His conscious intervened at the right time. _What do you think Red Alert'll do to you if you break it down and demand answers? So just back away from the laboratory. Nice and easy._

He did so with some amount of hesitation, all the while burying the curiosity that drew him to the room.

* * *

When Springer woke up, not only was he on the floor next to his berth, but he was nursing a horrible headache. He felt as though he hadn't slept a wink that night, although he had, and when he did, he'd been plagued with strange dreams mostly comprising of Decepticons and battles and gore. To wake himself up, he started by doing a couple of push-ups, before turning on the television to provide some background noise, and picking up the mess he'd left on the floor. Personal possessions were strewn everywhere; he hadn't lived this rough since his days at the Academy so long ago. Meanwhile, the television displayed its usual composition of propaganda, promotion, and tell-tale signs of looming disaster.

He ran through his schedule in his head. In another hour he'd have to report to his station. He'd pair up with either Ironhide or Brawn or both and do their usual round of patrols around the Space Bridge and the colony. If they saw any trespassers they'd take them back to their headquarters so Rodimus could give them a good one-hour lecture on their wrongdoings. At the end of his day, after settling a few minor disputes among the citizens, Springer would come back to HQ and fill out a report; maybe he'd even check in with Rodimus to see if the team had been assigned any field missions from Cybertron Command. Rodimus would then say "no," tell him how irritated he was with routine, and then go back to work on his precious ship. (Springer could see the Passage docked from his window; right now they were in the process of painting it deep red highlighted with black.) By evening Springer would find himself hanging out with Ironhide or Brawn or both. Maybe they'd hit a tavern by night. Play a game. Then go back to their respective apartments and recharge until the next work day.

Springer wasn't sure if he enjoyed this routine or hated it. He wasn't sure if he enjoyed knowing what was going to happen that day, knowing that he wasn't about to face a Decepticon, knowing that today wasn't going to be his last day among the living. At times he almost fooled himself into thinking that there wasn't a threat out there, and that a few weeks ago he and the team hadn't been fighting Blackout and those other Decepticons in a scrap yard. Sometimes he felt at peace.

But Blackout only brought bad memories, visions of carnage, like the ones he'd seen in his dreams during the night, so he quickly pushed aside the image of the ugly bugger's face out of his mind. He had to admit that Athenia was a relatively safe place to live despite its precarious location on the edge of the Galactic Rim. No, here he didn't have to worry about being attacked. It was a nice change of pace from the usual.

That was when an alarm sounded in Springer's comm. link, announcing that there was trouble.

* * *

Tapping his foot impatiently, Springer watched the numbers above the elevator door glow in succession until they reached level one. He ran down a couple of Autobots waiting on the other side, before transforming, and speeding straight for the headquarters of their security detail. In front he met up with Ironhide, shortly followed by Brawn.

'You know what the emergency is?' asked Springer.

'Springer, you _are_ the emergency,' said Brawn.

They hurried into the common room, fully expecting to see Rodimus already there on full emergency status.

Instead, they saw the door to the laboratory torn off its hinges and on the other side, pure and utter chaos.

The three of them entered to find Red Alert's one pristine laboratory a wreck, like a Decepticon had torn through here without mercy. Datapads and broken glass littered the floor. Monitors were smashed in. The console had been pounded. There was a nice dent in the wall obviously created by someone's fist. And in the midst of all this was Red Alert. Obviously it was she who had screamed. She stood there, frozen, as if someone had just ripped her life out of her servos, with both fists shaking and her back to them. Rodimus was nearby, although he looked largely apathetic to all this.

'Look, you can replace this stuff,' said Rodimus. 'It's not that big a deal.'

'Not a big deal?' Red Alert hollered. She rounded on him. It was clear she was going for blood. 'This isn't just a bunch of random slag! This is my research – my personal property! Someone just came in here and ripped through it like it was nothing! Not to mention my databases might have been hacked into! I was storing some very valuable information in there and there's a chance someone looked _through it_!'

She noticed the other three.

'Which one of you is responsible for this?' she hissed. She sounded more hurt than angry now. 'WHICH ONE? What did I ever do to one of you? It's not like I've caused any trouble! I don't cause trouble! Why the slag do you think I spend endless hours in here by myself? Why do you think I try to stay out of your way when you're doing something stupid like playing video games? I don't cause trouble when I'm in here! I never thought even one of you could ever…'

Red Alert stopped herself short to regain control of herself. All of a sudden the cold, candid security blanket she'd built up all but melted away into this wreck. All judgements Springer had previously made about her character left at once.

'…Okay, to summarize: which of you did it?' Rodimus folded his arms.

No one answered.

'Let me rephrase that,' said Rodimus. 'Which one of you _didn't_ do it? Show of hands. C'mon. And be honest.'

Springer, Brawn, and Ironhide all showed their servos rather hesitantly.

Rodimus narrowed his optics at them. '_Really_?'

'It wasn't me!' Springer said.

'Yeah, it wasn't me either!' Brawn confirmed. 'And I think we all know that Ironhide's too _nice_ to pull something like this off.'

After it was confirmed that none of them did it, Ironhide cautiously approached Red Alert and put a hand on her shoulder. The contact seemed to calm her down almost at once.

She took a deep breath and pulled herself together. The flaccid went back up.

'Oh…when I get my hands on the slagger that did this…' she snarled.

'I pity the 'bot who did,' said Rodimus. 'They must've gotten in sometime after you checked out last night. Did you see anyone around?'

'No, nothing,' said Red Alert. 'And I always lock the door behind me.'

'Obviously they don't know the concept of "locks,"' Springer glanced at the broken down door.

'Did anyone else see anyone suspicious lurking around?' asked Rodimus.

None of them had.

'We have to find out who _did_ get in here,' Red Alert affirmed. 'It's important. It looks like my database hasn't been hacked, but nevertheless, they could make another attempt. Intergalactic security is at risk here!...I'm gonna have to call Cybertron Intelligence.'

Rodimus moaned. 'Not _those_ guys again.'

'I agree that they're irritating – Primus knows I know that better than anyone else – but they're also competent and probably the only ones who can retrieve that information.'

'Fine, as long as they stay out of my way,' said Rodimus. 'Alright, Ironhide, Springer, can you do your patrols as per tradition? Brawn and I will handle things here. And see if you can find any creeps lurking about Athenia. If you see anyone, I want to know about them ASAP so I can kick their fan belts!'

Springer departed the scene with Ironhide. At the door Springer paused to look back at the beaten up laboratory, feeling a sense of guilt for whatever reason. He proceeded to go about his routine.

He later found himself back in his quarters in the early hours of the moment, throwing darts at a picture of Ultra Magnus he'd hung on the wall, riddled with holes from the numerous games he'd played in the past. He was waiting for someone.

Springer had come straight there from the laboratory, which he'd revisited when there was no one on the scene and after Red Alert made a half-hearted attempt to clean up the mess. Springer's enormous shadow had been cast upon the floor and he flicked on the light to take in the sight once more. It looked like a tornado had blown through here unannounced, disregarding any respect for Red Alert's lab. To Springer, this was an indication that no one on the team could have done this; though they were hardly friends, the Autobots in the security detail at least had some level of grudging acceptance of each other. They wouldn't simply violate another's property like this.

On the other hand, no one seemed to be taking it that seriously, not even Red Alert. After checking her security systems, she deduced that her database hadn't been accessed and nothing was stolen, so there was a fairly good chance that it was just a random occurrence. You never knew what an Autobot would do next. Appalled by this, Springer had made the conscious decision to follow up on his own. If Rodimus wasn't going to investigate, he would. All his instincts were simply screaming at him to figure it out.

That was what led him to this moment. Since this was a weekend he normally wouldn't be here, but he was waiting for a contact to meet him. And his contact was late.

It was at that very moment that he picked up a comm. link. Springer sighed.

He opened a channel. 'Where the hell are you?'

'_I can't come_.' It was Hubcap's voice. Good, old, reliable Hubcap. '_I can't explain right now, I just can't come. We're gonna have to talk like this_.'

'I don't like talking over the comm. link,' said Springer. 'Someone could be eavesdropping.'

'_No one is listening in, just trust me. Now what do you want to talk about? And make it quick!_'

'It's about what happened to R.A.'s lab.'

'_Aw, geez, don't get me involved_…'

'Too late,' Springer snapped. 'I was just wondering how good your hearing is.'

'_Not good enough to know who did it. If I did, I would'a told Rodimus, believe me._'

'But do you have any ideas about who did?'

'_Meh._'

'What's "meh" mean?'

'_It means, "maybe I do, maybe I don't." What's in it for me?_'

'I won't come over there and remove your head from your body.'

There was a pause at the other end.

'Look, Hubcap, you're in the perfect spot to help me out here. It could be nothing, but if someone's gained access to the sensitive information that was in Red Alert's computer, Autobot security could be at stake here. You're the only 'bot I know who probably has some vague idea about who did it. You're also the only one I trust…in moderation…'

Again, Hubcap didn't immediately answer. '_You have to swear you won't give me up as your contact_.'

'Deal. What do you know?'

'…_Well…See, up here in this tower, I have to handle a lot of communications daily. And having _exceptionally_ excellent instincts, you tend to hear things. And you know what? Sometimes I get to do certain special tasks for a certain government agency that generally deals with leaks in the system._'

'You gotta be kidding me. Intelligence trusts _you_?'

'_Not really, but whenever they're trying to track down someone, they grill me for information. I know 'bots. Basically the deal is that I answer any questions they have and they don't send me to the stockades, which is a pretty sweet deal. How is this important, you ask? Well, a few days ago, I was approached by an agent who has me a few very suspicious questions. Namely, he asked about your team, and he asked about security measures on your HQ, and he asked quite a few questions about Red Alert's daily routine._'

'What'd you say?'

'_Well, I told him what I knew, then I handed over some security footage of your guys' headquarters from the past few months. Then he disappeared and I haven't heard anything about it since. Now, our camera system was working just fine until early this morning, right around the same time that R.A.'s lab was vandalized. When we tried to figure out what had caused the shut down, we traced the signal, and found out that it originated from a code that had entered our system through a communication signal of some sort. Thus, the code spread everywhere and knocked our systems out temporarily. And when we pulled the code apart, we realized that it was an Autobot signal. Only an Autobot could've sent a communication with that signature; not even one of the bad guys could replicate something like that!_'

'So, an Autobot disrupted your systems and then ransacked the lab?'

'_That's the way it looks. Then, of course, shortly thereafter, Intel contacted me again and had me surrender the data we'd complied on what we'd found out about the code in such a short time._'

'Have you run the code against the Autobot database to find out whose it is?'

'_Haven't been able to. The code's completely scrambled so at the moment I'm tasked with trying to put it back together. So far I haven't had much luck. However they did it, they did it in such a unique way that if they tried it a second time, we'd know it was the same guy. Pretty sick, huh?_'

'When exactly was the signal sent?'

'_Around 400 hours._'

'Who sent communications around that time?'

'_The better question is: "who didn't?" We're handling hundreds of hundreds of signals per minute. Going through our logs could take hours, but we got 'bots on it_.'

Springer tried to piece this together in his head. So Intel was definitely involved and an Autobot had scrambled the communications system and broken into their headquarters. This was an inside job, alright.

'Do you think you could send me your analysis of the code that was used to disrupt your systems?' asked Springer.

'…_Yeah, I guess, but if anyone asks, I didn't send it to ya_,' said Hubcap.

'Transmit it to my quarters an' I'll look at it here. Springer out.'

* * *

Over the buildings of Athenia, a shuttle weaved precariously between the towers and swooped low over the heads of innocent pedestrians on the streets below. It flew almost lopsidedly, with no apparent sense of directionality or purpose. In fact, it almost appeared impaired as it circled the Space Bridge, then haphazardly descended towards the docks on the far side, in the shadow of the Sojourner's Passage and other vessels that operated outside of commercial use. The ship avoided these by inches before managing to land on the dock, just managing to avoid landing right on top of a second shuttle and several Autobots who dived out of the way.

Once it had landed, the ship remained stationary. Then the back opened and Red Alert stumbled out.

'_That_ is the _last time_ I let you give me a flying lesson,' proclaimed Red Alert.

'Aw, come on, you did fine!' Rodimus came out behind her. 'For a beginner, I mean.'

'You could've been a little more concise in your directions! "Go left, no, right, left, right, left! What are you doing? I said go straight!" Really, as an instructor, you'd think you'd at least have an idea of what you were doing.'

'I wasn't like that…'

She glared.

'…Well…I just wanted you to get the picture,' said Rodimus.

'You mean the picture is supposed to be perplexing? '

He shrugged.

'I think I'll call a professional if I want to learn how to pilot a vessel, which I don't,' Red Alert continued. 'So I don't think I'll learn to fly at all.'

'What if you get in trouble and you need to fly a ship?'

'I don't intend to be placed in that situation.'

'What if you are?'

'But I won't.'

'How do you know that?'

'Because I know everything.'

'Okay. What am I thinking right now?'

'Rodimus, I daren't repeat what is in your mind,' deadpanned Red Alert. 'It's too disgusting a place.'

Rodimus laughed and stocked off, leaving Red Alert by the shuttle. She watched him leave until she realized that he'd neglected to shut off the interior lights of the shuttle, so she took the time to do what he'd failed to do. Red Alert only hesitated to look the place over a final time. She moved back to the exit, before pausing. There was a streak of light coming out from underneath the closet door. She opened it.

Springer was standing on the other side.

'Hi, Springer,' said Red Alert. She shut off the lights and closed the door.

She threw it open again.

'Springer?' she exclaimed. 'What the slag are you doing in there?'

'Well, I was hoping to see something I wasn't supposed to see, but that didn't quite turn out as well as I'd hoped,' said Springer.

'Have you been in there the whole time?'

'…Maybe.'

'Get out!'

Springer gladly did so, since the closet was very cramped and hadn't provided him with much comfort during the precarious trip. He marched down the ramp and landed back on the dock, with Red Alert in hot pursuit.

'What were you doing?' demanded Red Alert. 'For real, this time?'

'I was…' Springer sought a plausible excuse. 'Uh…I was…I wanted to see if I would fit in there. I got stuck.'

'And you just _happened_ to get stuck in the same shuttle Rodimus and I were using?'

'Yup. Quite a coincidence.' Springer moved on ahead, back in the direction of the detail's headquarters. Unfortunately, Red Alert wasn't accepting his excuses. She darted ahead and cut off his path.

'Were you spying on us?'

'No.'

'You _were_ spying on us!'

'Was not!'

'Okay, what are you up to?'

'If I was up to something, I sure as hell wouldn't tell you.'

'Oh, yeah?' Red Alert planted herself down in front of him. 'Well, I'm not moving from this spot until you tell me what you're up to!'

With relative ease, he grabbed Red Alert and placed her to the side. He immediately made a beeline for the back entrance that lead directly into their HQ, which was at the far end of the dock past Autobots who stared at the chase. Red Alert was right on his heels.

'I want to know what you were doing!' she demanded.

'I was just watching you get a lesson from Rodimus,' Springer lied. 'Y'know…just making sure you don't, uh, blow yourself up in the process. You know Rodimus; I wouldn't exactly rely on him to get a good lesson…in anything, for that matter.'

'Do you expect me to bide that?'

'Depends. Is it working?'

'Not a chance! As an associate of the Ministry of Science, I demand that you tell me what you were doing on that shuttle!'

'Gosh, you're taking this personally, aren't you?'

'Alright, you want to play this game? Just tell me this: who were you spying on? Me or Rodimus?'

Springer averted his gaze.

'Why were you spying on me?' she asked. They were nearing the back door now. Springer tried to think of someplace he could hide, or perhaps he could somehow shake her loose.

'I didn't say I was spying on _you_!' Springer pointed out.

'Had you been spying on Rodimus, you would have admitted it at once,' said Red Alert.

Entering their headquarters, they passed through the training room, with Springer taking long strides, hoping that she'd give up. But she chased him with almost inhuman speed until they entered the common room. Though he aimed for the front door, she was quick to cut off his path.

'Answer me!' she shouted.

Springer rolled his viz scanners. 'I wasn't spying on you, I was following you! There's a distinct difference!'

'And _why_ precisely were you doing following me?'

'It's none of your business.'

'"It's none of my business?" I find you, in a closet, following me around, _spying _on me – don't deny it – and you have the nerve to say that it's none of my business? What, is this some sort of secret mission you're on? Is this official business? Is it personal? What is it?'

'I…I can't tell you!' Springer affirmed.

'_Because_?'

'Because I just can't!'

She snarled, her servos curled into trembling fists. 'Fine, you know what? I don't want to know. But if this behaviour persists, if you _dare_ to sneak around, watching me when you think I'm not looking, I will not stand for it! I will have you thrown in prison for pity's sake! Or worse, I will tell Longarm Prime you're withholding information and have him interrogate you until you're nothing but a mad shell locked away in a mental health facility on the far side of the quadrant!'

Red Alert brushed past him, heading to her laboratory. In the doorway she stopped.

'I hope your viz scanners burst from your head!' she concluded. Then she disappeared.

With his spark beating madly from a combination of nerves, shame, and pure and utter terror, Springer clutched on his chest, planted on the spot. Red Alert had just made seem Decepticons seem the pleasurable sort. At the sight of movement from nearby, he turned his head to see that Ironhide and Brawn were on the couch and gawking at him.

'So…' Springer paused. 'How's your day been?'

'Forget our day,' Brawn laughed a little nervously. 'What was that all about? I've never seen R.A. that mad before.'

'I – long story.'

'Oh?'

'Look, it's – '

'None of our business? I'll _make_ it our business if you don't start talking!'

'…You'll think I'm crazy.'

'You mean, crazier than usual?' asked Brawn

'You wouldn't believe me if I told you,' Springer rephrased.

'Sure we would!' assured Ironhide.

'This is Ironhead we're got here!' added Brawn. 'You could tell him he's the Magnus and he'd believe it!'

'It's true; I would,' agreed Ironhide. 'So what's up?'

He considered them. Casting a final glance towards Red Alert's laboratory, he leapt over the couch and sat in between them.

'Remember what happened to Red Alert's lab?' he asked. 'Well…I talked to Hubcap and apparently their security cameras were knocked out by a feedback signal right before the lab was ransacked. The signal was so unique he was able to isolate it, but no one's been able to identify who it belongs to. _But_ Hubcap _was_ able to trace other communications made by this particular signal, including a few text conversations between the culprit and some other anonymous party.'

'Really?' inquired Brawn. 'I didn't know you were smart enough to play detective.'

'Funny,' Springer glared. 'Hubcap's given me full access to the system, so I've been able to monitor the culprit's messages. Some of them are too distorted to be retrievable, but I've read a few of the more important ones. Right now I know one thing for sure: he's an Autobot traitor.'

'What exactly do these messages say?' Brawn pressed.

Springer brandished a datapad that he pulled out from a compartment and accessed the files. 'Let's see…yada, yada, yada…here we go. The culprit says: "tore up the lab, didn't find anything interesting. Target wasn't there. Plan to go through with it in the next week and deliver the target to you in succession." He goes on to say: "best you land on the docks to the northwest of the Space Bridge, where you can quickly land, acquire your target, and then escape back across the Galactic Rim." I read through a lot of these messages, and almost all of them reference the target. Everything he's been doing in the last few months have been about the target. Every inch of this plan is about it…'

He trailed off.

'And what's the target?' inquired Brawn. 'Information? Weapons? Data?'

Springer shook his head. 'I didn't…I didn't know what it was until I went back a bit. The Decepticons sent this: "Your assignment is one of great importance to the Decepticons, so the success of this operation weighs solely upon you. Any failure on your part would result in your immediate termination. The Decepticons find themselves in need of certain information which can't be acquired from any database or computer and can't be acquired through hacking or deception. The information we require is, in fact, held within the processor of a living subject. Your assignment is to abduct the target Autobot, as you are conventionally in close proximity to them, and then deliver the target to us as soon as possible."' He paused. '"The Decepticons request that you arrange the abduction of Autobot medical officer Red Alert."'

Springer got the reaction he'd been expecting. One of blank surprise and pure shock, a kind of surprise that drove the two Autobots to stare at him with wide optics. Brawn was quick to recover from it and snatch the datapad out of his servos to examine it for himself, although the communication logs were accurate to the last detail. He had read it so many times, himself, that he'd memorized every word of it.

"The abduction of Red Alert." It sounded so callous and yet it was a pristine operation Springer admittedly admired. They had chosen the perfect target. Red Alert was close to otherwise untouchable Autobots, such as Perceptor and Wheeljack, yet she was far more accessible. Not to mention she had her fair share of knowledge, herself. It would simply be a matter of capturing her, whether dead or alive, and then downloading the information directly from her processor. It was a risky procedure that would most likely kill her. They might as well rename it "the murder of Red Alert." And here their team was, caught up in the middle of it all.

'When I…when I read that, I started to keep tabs on Red Alert,' said Springer. 'For her own protection, if you know what I mean. When I heard that she and Rodimus were going out on that shuttle, I hid on board. Y'know. A lonely shuttle wandering around in space…seems like a good opportunity for any Decepticon to take Red Alert. For a nanoklik I even thought that Rodimus was the traitor.'

'Why haven't you told Red Alert?' asked Ironhide.

'For one thing, she'd probably insist that she doesn't need protecting,' explained Springer. 'Secondly, I need to use her as bait and I doubt she'd like that. I want to catch the traitor when he makes his move.'

'When do ya think he'll do that?'

'Soon.'

'Doesn't say a lot…'

'Which is why I have to keep on edge. It could happen any time. For all I know, she's in that lab, getting kidnapped right now!'

Ironhide looked at him seriously. 'Maybe you should talk to Rodimus about this.'

'I've…been…putting it off.'

'Why?'

'Why do you think, Ironhead?' interrupted Brawn. 'Let's not forget that Hot Rod's the idiot who dragged us all off to find a stupid ship an' nearly got us all killed in the process! While the rest of us are doing our jobs, he's using the Passage as a chick magnet! He doesn't take his job seriously enough and he as sure as hell won't take this seriously.'

'If you don't tell Red Alert, I think you should talk to Rodimus,' said Ironhide.

'Did you not hear a word of what I just said?' Brawn demanded.

'I did hear what you said,' Ironhide said coldly. 'I just don't believe that Rodimus is as incompetent as _you_ seem to think and I think he should know.'

'He's right,' agreed Springer. 'If someone's after Red Alert, everyone on the team has to be prepared for whatever's coming. I'll go talk to him.'

'Alright, but you're going to regret it,' sang Brawn. He held up the datapad. 'Can I borrow this?'

'What for?'

'I want to do some of my own research into this signal used to contact the 'cons.'

'Sure, just let me know when you're as frustrated as Hubcap is,' said Springer. 'Ironhide, keep on R.A. until I get back.'

He rose and was gone from the room before Ironhide could voice any protest he might have had. When Springer found that Rodimus's office was empty, he headed out the backdoor and looked down the dock, in the direction of the Passage sitting innocently at its perch.

* * *

He found Rodimus on the bridge. When Springer entered, it didn't look anything like the beaten up shell they'd dragged out of the scrap yard a matter of months before. Now it was close to being in pristine condition. He could only expect this result out of Rodimus, the notorious Minor known for demanding nothing but perfection. There wasn't a doubt in Springer's mind that Rodimus had been tormenting the repair crews since the project started.

Springer headed down from the raised platform to the lowered area which encompassed most of the space in the cramped bridge. Rodimus was at the helm, but he wasn't alone. A repair crew worked about him, largely ignoring him, and pushing him out of the way when he was in their path. There was also a femme who appeared to be part of the repair crew…and was making a valiant attempt to ignore Rodimus. Fortunately, Rodimus's attention was diverted towards a second repair 'bot.

He made a beeline right for him.

'Then work on it until it _is_ right!' Rodimus said. 'C'mon, how hard can calibrating the engines be? This thing was supposed to get off the ground days ago, and we still haven't gotten anywhere!'

'It'd be a lot easier if you just let us replace the engines altogether,' pointed out the repair 'bot.

'The engines can take it.'

'They were melted into a puddle of molten iron! You're basically asking us to rebuild them from scratch! How are we supposed to get this done by the end of the week?'

'Well, figure it out; sometimes you solve your own problems,' Rodimus waved his hand vaguely. 'Now shoo. I'm busy.'

The repair 'bot rolled his viz scanners, gave up, and headed away. Rodimus turned his attention back to the femme.

'So…where were we?' asked Rodimus. 'Whad'dya think? I could teach you to pilot a shuttle...y'know, we could spend a few hours, in space, alone…'

Springer came up behind Rodimus. He grabbed his chair and swung him around.

'We need to talk,' said Springer.

'No, we don't.' Rodimus swung back to face the femme.

'It's _important_,' stressed Springer.

'Not as important as what I'm doing right now.'

'Let me rephrase that. We need to talk.' Springer grabbed him by the arm. '_Now_.'

Rodimus yelped in surprise as Springer forcefully dragged him from the bridge and into the elevator, leaving behind the startled femme and the smirking repair crew. Springer waited until the doors had shut behind them before he rounded on the sad mess that was his commanding officer.

Yet he seemed to be a little less than willing to listen, especially with that peeved expression.

'What'd you do that for?' exclaimed Rodimus. 'I was in the middle of something!'

'Yeah, I can see that,' said Springer. 'We got a problem.'

'Well, why'd you come to me? Surely you can handle it yourself!'

'That's what I _tried_ to do, but since this involves the entire team, I decided that you'd better know about it.' He paused. 'I think Red Alert's in trouble.'

'Oh? What kind of trouble?' Rodimus didn't look the least bit disconcerted by this.

'I dunno,' shrugged Springer. 'You're gonna think I'm crazy, but…you're gonna think this is insane or something, but I think someone's plotting to kidnap her.'

Rodimus glared. 'You're right. I do think that's crazy.'

'Hot Rod!'

'No one's trying to kidnap Red Alert.'

'That's completely contradicting what I just said!' Springer exclaimed. 'Look, Red Alert has access to information that no one else in this universe has access to. All the evidence I've gathered suggests that someone is targeting her specifically. I haven't told her anything about it 'cause…well…I just don't want her to call me insane and say I'm jumping to conclusions.'

'I wonder how she would make that deduction,' drawled Rodimus.

'Will you please take this seriously?'

'I am taking this seriously!' he said. 'I seriously think you're jumping to conclusions! What do you want me to do about it?'

'I want you to believe me and talk to Red Alert!'

'What, about a nonexistent kidnapping plot? Who'd want to kidnap her, anyways? Decepticons?'

Rodimus made an attempt to leave mid-conversation. He cut off his path.

'You don't believe me?' demanded Springer. 'Fine. Then believe the evidence.'

He proceeded to tell Rodimus everything that he'd learned since he'd started his investigation, going as far as to hand him the datapad where he stored the transcripts of the culprit's messages. His expression remained static the whole time. Rodimus listened; he had to give him credit for that. Unfortunately, that was the extent that he did.

'Stop right there, Springer,' Rodimus raised his hand. 'Two things. One: the Rim's too well defended for 'cons to get close to Athenia. Two: the Elite Guard's constantly monitoring the situation. Even if there _was_ a kidnapping plot – as much as it pains me to say it – Cybertron Intelligence is probably already on top of it! So we got nothing to worry about! If someone was trying to kidnap Red Alert or any other prominent Autobot, we'd hear about it.'

'Cybertron Intelligence doesn't have the answers to the universe!' argued Springer.

'Please, Springer, you're embarrassing yourself,' Rodimus continued. 'I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll submit this to Intelligence and have them look it over, and they can decide whether it's legit or not. We'll figure something out after that.'

'What good'll that do? It'll take weeks for them to get back to us! This could be going down now! We don't have time to wait for the government to catch up to us!'

'This isn't enough to go on,' Rodimus waved the datapad at him. 'There's no names, no locations, no nothing. Intel can fill in the gaps. They're the investigators. I'm a 'bot of action, and at this moment, there's nothing for me to take action against.'

'What do you expect us to do until then?'

'Work on the Passage. We have other things to do, and I'm not entirely convinced that your kidnapping plot is even a kidnapping plot! I've read about these kinds of things before. These guys probably don't even know what they're doing! I don't think they're a threat.'

Well, this wasn't working. Springer would have to go for good, old-fashioned emotional appeal. He fixed Rodimus with his best appealing expression. 'Rodimus…I got a feeling, right down, deep in my fuel tank.'

'Don't pull that intuition scrap on me, Springer; I'm not that gullible,' said Rodimus.

'Maybe that hammered that stuff out of you in the Academy, but where I come from, listening to that gut feeling is the only thing you got!' Springer waved him off. 'Even if there's no kidnapping plot or anything, there could be something else fishy going on around here, and it's your job as the commanding officer to protect his team members! No?'

Rodimus scoffed. 'Springer, I'll run it by Cybertron Command. That's the best I can do right now.'

'You have to do better!' Springer shouted.

'Sorry, I'm busy,' said Rodimus. 'I've got work to do. I will see you later.'

'But Rodimus – !'

'Later.' Rodimus stepped out of the elevator.

The doors shut behind him and Springer was left alone.

* * *

Springer hovered just outside their headquarters, shrouding himself in what darkness was readily available. He was watching the opposite building with an intense expression, his line of vision only interrupted by the occasional car driving by. He was on his toes because he knew he had one shot at this.

After his conversation with Rodimus – which had yielded no results – he'd decided to nonetheless keep tabs on Red Alert, whether she was in compliance or not. Ironhide was on standby to help him out, but otherwise Springer was on his own. For some reason Springer was nervous. His spark was pounding in his throat. He kept looking around, expecting someone to abruptly come up and confront him. Then for a split second he'd be terrified that he'd missed her exiting the building.

He needn't have feared. The moment he turned back to his constant vigil, Red Alert had just come out of the door. She took a few steps out before pausing to take a good look around; probably checking to see if she was being followed. When she seemed to think it was clear, she transformed and pulled onto the main road. Springer followed her shortly, keeping her within his sight. She took her regular route through the complex. She drove slowly and was obviously not in much of a hurry.

Up ahead, she turned just out of sight. Springer sped up.

He braked at the corner and transformed. He headed around the corner.

He almost rammed right into her.

'Stop following me!' Red Alert jabbed a finger at his face.

'It's for your own good!' Springer said.

'Shut up!' Red Alert shouted. 'I want to know why you're chasing me around! You're up to something, and whatever it is, it involves me!'

Springer pursed his lips together.

'If you don't want to tell me, then I'm going home,' Red Alert turned his back on him. 'I trust you won't follow me.'

'Wait!' Springer cut off her path. 'Okay, I'll explain. But you must promise me you won't panic.'

'I don't panic,' she stated. 'Make it snappy.'

'Decepticons want to kidnap you!'

She glared.

'Well, no surprise there,' she shrugged slightly. 'I'm going home now.'

'You mean…you were expecting this?' he pursued her.

'Of course,' said Red Alert. 'I'm a very desirable hostage, considering my vast amount of knowledge as well as my connections in Cybertron Command. If I was ever kidnapped, the Elite Guard wouldn't stop until my rescue was ensured.'

'And you don't find that the least bit alarming?'

'No, not really.'

'Why not?'

'I'm not alarmed because you're obviously acting on some sort of conspiracy. I assure you, there have been several attempts to kidnap or harm me, and none of them have ever succeeded. Not to mention I'm not completely useless; if need be, I can defend myself well enough.'

'Red Alert, this isn't the Metroplex!' Springer pointed out. 'We don't have the Elite Guard crawling around all over the place! You're a lot more vulnerable here, especially if someone knows your routine!'

'What makes you think someone wants to kidnap me in the first place?'

'I've been monitoring some communications sent to the Decepticons by an as-of-yet unknown party. This "unknown party" is also the guy who ransacked your lab a few days ago. The Decepticons want the guy to kidnap you and deliver you to them so that they can download information straight from your processor.'

He'd gotten her attention. She'd slowed to a stop before finally turning to face him.

'I've seen this a thousand times before,' said Springer. 'If you don't believe me, you're going to end up in a Decepticon laboratory screaming because they're digging through your memory banks so they can extract information by force. You know better than anyone what that can do to a 'bot's processor. If you survive the initial procedure, it's either permanent memory loss or insanity. The best way to rescue a hostage in that situation is to stop the kidnapping from ever taking place. Take your pick, Red Alert. Are you going to let me help you or not?'

Red Alert opened her mouth, but she never got the opportunity to formulate an answer.

The air abruptly became heavy, rippling with a sort of chill that quickly passed through them. When Springer looked up, a purple barrier of light was shooting through the sky. Lights began to go out. They followed the light. The streets were the last, plunging them to stark darkness that sent chills throughout Springer's body. He would recognize that display anywhere.

Without thinking, he grabbed Red Alert's wrist and guided her down the narrow street, following a direct route back to the team's headquarters. The vague plan he had formulated in his head was get her there, place her under the protection of Ironhide, and then go after the Decepticons before they could even think about getting to Red Alert. All the while, blindly scurrying through the darkness, he kept a sharp lookout for the traitor he knew had to be close by. Their operation was about to be executed, and the only thing that stood between them and success, was him. When he tried to open a comm. link to the rest of the team, he found it dead. He could only hope that the others picked up on the hints before they were surrounded, and even Springer wasn't able to fight them off.

They made it as far as the docks. Springer skidded to a halt at the end of one, panting heavily. It was at that very moment that everything changed. His grip on Red Alert tightened. She struggled away fruitlessly, though even she knew that she was no match.

'Springer, let go of me this instance or so help me, I will _sue_ you!' Red Alert demanded.

He didn't answer. Her chin tilted up to stare him in the viz scanners, only to see him staring mindlessly out into the painted stars and nebulas decorating their otherwise dark sky. The sound of a ship's engines fluttered nearby, accompanied by the confused cries of Autobots stumbling in the blackness. She knew instinctively that the engines belonged to that of an enemy ship.

'Springer!' Red Alert barked.

Her spark beat jumped as he looked at him with a sinister expression that betrayed his true intentions.

* * *

Rodimus was so engrossed in a mindless game that he didn't immediately realize that the lights had gone out. In fact, he only took vague voice when his computer screen went totally blank, taking with it the unsaved progress he'd made since he started this game a few hours ago. He swore. Then composed himself. Then he rolled across the room in his chair to take a good look out the window…only to see nothing but blotted out darkness in space that took the ship of buildings. The last of the electricity, whether in the form of street lights or buildings, was snuffed out in an instant as an odd vibration rippled through the air like a disturbed pool of water. It left nothing behind. He attempted to activate a headlight, only to find that that wasn't working either.

He stumbled across the room and managed to find the door as his viz scanners struggled to compensate for the lighting. When he found the entrance he peered out to see Ironhide's optics in the otherwise dark common room.

'Is this one of your pranks?' inquired Rodimus. 'I was doing some very important work and I didn't save my progress when the electricity went out!'

'It isn't me, I swear!' Ironhide exclaimed defensively.

He sighed. '_Fine_, then I guess we better figure out what's going on. Where's Springer?'

'…Out.'

'Red Alert?'

'She's with Springer.'

'Where's Springer, then?'

'Out.'

'Where is this wonderful place of "Out" and why does everyone seem to be there?'

'It's…uh…'

'Ironhide…you're being unhelpful.'

'Sorry.'

Rodimus was about to suggest a course of action, when he heard a door – sounded like the front – abruptly open, followed by panting, and then a loud crash during which Ironhide let out a high-pitched scream. The floor jolted violently as he hit the ground.

'OW!' Ironhide exclaimed. '_Brawn_! Where's the fire?'

'Where's Springer?' demanded Brawn. He sounded panicked.

'Out,' said Rodimus.

'He's not _here_!' Ironhide added. 'He's with Red Alert!'

'Oh – slag. This is not good. Get up! We're going after them!'

'Hold on a nanoklik,' Rodimus intervened. 'Look, I don't know what the slag is going on, but I suggest we find out before someone blames me for this mess. So why don't we all head on over to the power station and try to figure out what's going on, hm? Preferably in a quiet and orderly fashion.'

'This is no time to do anything in a quiet and orderly fashion!' Brawn shouted. 'We got a problem!'

'What problem?'

'No time to explain! We gotta go _now_!'

'Go where?'

'After Springer and Red Alert!'

'Why?'

'There's no time; we have to get going!'

'We're not going anywhere until you start talking!'

Brawn grunted in frustration and rolled his optics. 'Well, it's – did Springer talk to you about Red Alert?'

'Oh, yeah, he was going on about some kidnapping plot and I told I'd run it by Cybertron Com – '

'Well, that so called kidnapping plot is going down tonight. _Now_. And Springer's behind it all!'

'What?' said Ironhide. 'You're not serious.'

'I'm completely serious!' affirmed Brawn. 'I took a look at the signal used to transmit messages to the Decepticons over the last few months. Well, I'm familiar with them. Back in the glory days of the Wreckers when Impactor was still alive, I worked in close contact with them in some of their operations here on Athenia. The signal used was a secret code used only by Wreckers. _Only_ a Wrecker could've sent those messages. As of right now, there's only _one_ Wrecker here on Athenia who has access to Red Alert!'

He looked at them dramatically and furiously, demanding them to object.

'Wait, wait, wait,' Rodimus shook his head. 'This is insane. He couldn't possibly – '

'Tell that to the evidence!' Brawn yelled.

'But…Springer can't be a traitor!' said Rodimus. 'Sure, he's a little unconventional, but he'd never – '

'This has been going on behind our backs for months!' he continued. 'Remember when we went to fetch the Passage and Team Chaar ended up boarding? Why do you think they were there?'

'They were chasing that escaped prisoner.'

'No. They were there to get Red Alert. They _knew_ we were going to be there and that she'd be most vulnerable at that point. Springer told them that we were heading for the Passage and they lay in wait. That Autobot escaping from them and winding up on the Passage was pure coincidence. Then there's the lab. Only members of this security detail have direct access to it. The front door wasn't knocked down, was it? However vandalized the lab must have the security clearance to get in here. And – and today, Springer volunteered to keep tabs on Red Alert. Just so he could be near here when this blackout occurred so that, in the cover of darkness, the 'cons could swoop in and take her. Just so he could deliver her to them.'

Brawn's statement was met with silence.

'Springer may be our team mate, he may be a well-respected Autobot, but that doesn't mean we can brush it all off,' said Brawn. 'Right now we know three things. One: someone is collaborating with the Decepticons to kidnap Red Alert. Two: that someone knows codes that only Wreckers should know. Three: Springer is a Wrecker and, if he isn't the culprit, he's at least involved. You can either sit here like numbskulls or you can come with me and figure out what the slag is going on. Your choice.'

This said, Brawn headed for the rear exit. Ironhide glanced at Rodimus before chasing after them, while he hesitated. Nevertheless, overcome, he gave pursuit.

In the street it was deathly quiet. Rodimus took up the lead position, held back by his common sense for just a moment or two, before proceeding in the direction of the docks. This was the route Red Alert commonly took back to her quarters when she did go there, but as they went along, there didn't appear to be any sign of her or Springer. The more they went on, the more Rodimus expected an enemy to leap out and spontaneously offline them before they had the chance to defend themselves. Still, nothing. They were accompanied by nothing but their own paranoia.

They hadn't gotten far when Rodimus split the group up. He sent Ironhide and Brawn further down the shipyard while he went down one of the docks in order to find a better vantage point. It was apparent that _something_ had blown through her unannounced and uninvited, on account of the knocked over crates. The side of a building Rodimus passed had a distinctive hole in the wall that he paused to examine.

Then, a scream. A panicked scream that shattered the silence.

'Red Alert?' Rodimus shouted.

When all he got in response was a distant voice calling his name, he bolted towards it. It was emanating from a point further down the dock. He was only able to see a short distance ahead, so by the time the hulking figure of a 'bot came into view, they were mere feet behind it. He relaxed, because the chassis unmistakably belonged to Springer. Yet when the Wrecker turned, Rodimus realized that something was very wrong. Springer's eyes were blank and hollow, as thought he was a shell who'd just risen from the dead.

Springer's reaction was immediate. Rodimus was looking down the barrel of a blaster.

Rodimus knocked it upwards. He grabbed the barrel and slammed it into Springer's face, violently twisting it back to force Springer to let go. Throwing it out of reach, Rodimus shot two arrows into the Wrecker's side, although this seemed to have the opposite effect of what he intended. He slashed his sword. Rodimus barely managed to dive underneath it to avoid the strike.

Rodimus drew out a single arrow and threw it. It hit Springer in the arm. He circled around him, ascending and pushing off a nearby wall to launch himself right at his face. Spinning his bow, he jerked it into Springer's chin. It was enough to knock him off balance, which, in turn, was enough for Rodimus to shoot arrows directly into his face and knock him down. He hit the ground at a sprint, intending to get some distance between himself and his attacker. Instead, a flash of red behind him caught his optic.

There was a ship at the far end of the dock, a ship that obviously was not of Autobot descent. No. It was far too big for that. Ignoring all possibility of a pursuit, he took after it, merely focusing on the Decepticon barge. That didn't stop him from glancing over his shoulder. Springer was getting to his feet, but he barely got that far. Ironhide and Brawn had arrived on the scene, with Brawn throwing Springer back down to the ground. From then on all Rodimus could hear were the sounds of the struggle.

He headed towards the Decepticon ship. Ahead he saw movement. It was Red Alert. She was fighting against the grip of Spittor and Strika. While she fought valiantly, it was clear that she wasn't getting anywhere. When he was close enough, Rodimus took aim.

'Let go of her!' Rodimus shouted. '_NOW!_'

Spittor and Strika looked at him, then turned to each other. They started laughing.

It was Strika who attacked. She merely armed her cannons and fired. Swallowed by an abrupt, bright purple glow, the shot hit the ground right in front of him. The ground suddenly flew out from underneath. The last thing he saw, Red Alert and the Decepticons were getting further and further away from him. It was like a massive, invisible hand had flown down from the heavens and tugged him back. Then, he hit the ground with the force that paralyzed him.

He rolled over. He knew he was injured, but there was no pain, only bitterness and frustration. He was looking back towards the fight against Springer. Unfortunately it didn't appear to be going all that well. As Rodimus looked on, Ironhide attempted an attack, only to be thrown into Brawn, before Springer came after them with his sword. If Ironhide hadn't turned his chassis into a solid metal alloy, both of them would've been cut in half on the spot. The Wrecker persisted. He continued to strike at them, throwing his massive sword around like it was a mere toy. Rodimus glanced behind him. The Decepticon ship was already preparing for take off. He knew that there wasn't anything he could do to help her.

Rodimus slammed into Springer from behind. It was hardly effective, but it got his attention. Springer took a swipe at him that he easily avoided. Rodimus deflected and came down on him. Springer's main weakness was his wide swings. Easy to avoid. He delivered a series of punches to the face repeatedly. In the end Springer grabbed Rodimus's bow and violently jerked it. He swung him around and threw him to the ground.

His bow snapped like a twig. Rodimus crumpled, but was on his feet again, cursing profusely. He made eye contact with the maddened Springer. Once he spotted him, there was no breaking the intent to kill.

A glint in the darkness. Rodimus squinted to see that Springer's blaster was abandoned on the sidelines.

Springer charged.

Rodimus made a valiant dive for the discarded blaster, managing to get a good grip on it just as Springer skidded to a stop and adjusted his course. He aimed right in between the eyes.

'Sorry, Springer,' said Rodimus.

He pulled the trigger at point blank range.

Springer was down almost at once. In slow motion the blank, infuriated expression melted away. He casually stepped aside to allow the Wrecker to fall onto the ground. Rodimus, himself, suddenly aware of his injures, collapsed onto his knees to recompose and try to piece together what had happened. Suddenly he couldn't even remember pulling the trigger or seeing Springer fall, though he knew that was what he'd seen. What he'd done. A shadow was cast over him. Rodimus looked up to see Ironhide holding out a servo to him. He accepted the help and stumbled over to where Brawn was lurking nearby.

It was at that very moment that the frail street lights of Athenia flickered back into life. Panting heavily, Rodimus looked down at the defeated, unconscious body of Springer. When he looked up he saw a streak of light traveling across the starry sky, taking with it Red Alert and the Decepticons. It also seemed to be taking something else out of him. All of a sudden the confidence, the discontent, was replaced with something much worse than restlessness: an agonizing, tearing sensation around his spark that sent a heat wave throughout his body.

'I didn't listen,' he realized. 'He tried to warn me and I didn't listen.'

Brawn and Ironhide looked at him, but Rodimus wasn't aware of their optics lingering on him. He looked at Springer's torn-up face. Moments ago it had been filled with mindless rage. But a few hours ago he'd been looking at Rodimus with a sense of selfless desperation, desperation Rodimus had largely ignored.

He hadn't listened, and now Red Alert had paid the price.


	12. Rights of Red Alert

**The Rights of Red Alert**

Two megacycles later…

This was their last chance.

They sat in silence. Wheeljack had tried to make conversation, but Perceptor wasn't exactly famous for his ability to make small talk. Instead they hovered around a table in a dank back room of Maccadam's. Often had a subversive deal been made here, out of the prying, judgemental optics of the outside world. The noise from the bar just beyond the solitary door pulsed through. It didn't ease the tension that hung high in the air.

'…He will not come,' said Perceptor.

'Shut up,' Wheeljack snapped.

'We should return to the Metroplex.'

'Not happening.'

'This is illegal.'

'Would you rather leave the search to the Elite Guard?'

'Yes.'

Wheeljack snorted.

'The Elite guard are professionals,' Perceptor explained. 'I am not programmed to perform heroics and thus far it is that instinctive need to avoid combat that has kept me online, so that my many talents may be put to better us. There is an extremely low probability of seeing her again even if she was alive…We are taking a needless risk.'

'What about the war?' asked Wheeljack. 'What about what we did then?'

'That was different,' Perceptor peered at him over the rim of his spectacles. 'To the point: this meeting is a violation of all codes and conducts set by the council. This is behaviour condemned by any righteous Autobot.'

'Well, what do you expect me to do? Stay in the lab and not work? This won't be settled until we find Red Alert and this guy can help us out.'

'Your reasoning is flawed.'

'If my reasoning is flawed, then why're _you_ here?'

The retaliation silenced Perceptor at once and with it, any other protests the renowned council member dared to utter. While Perceptor kept telling Wheeljack that his "reasoning was flawed," he was otherwise making no attempt to stop him, to pull him back from whence they came. From here there was no turning back and no room for regret.

After all, Red Alert was offline. It was a theory neither of them was going to accept.

It had been nearly two months since the last sighting of Red Alert as reported by Rodimus; Rodimus, who had seen her dragged into a Decepticon ship that vanished off of Autobot sensors. Apparently her abduction had been planned for months and no one had suspected a thing, not even Intel. The news ripped through the Metroplex like wildfire. Most were convinced that Red Alert was now a lifeless shell floating somewhere in a distant scrap yard. But Wheeljack never spent a moment grieving; instead, when he'd heard the news, he marched right into Intel's headquarters and demanded answers from Longarm. He needed someone to blame. Longarm seemed to be the best 'bot to get angry at.

'Had I known about this plot – which I didn't – I would've done everything within my power to stop it!' Longarm had shouted in the heated argument. 'Don't you dare think for a second that you and Perceptor were Red Alert's only friends! I assure you I will do everything in my power to find her! Now leave! I have an investigation to oversee…_Go!_'

Wheeljack thought the solution was quite simple. Go look for her. But for some reason, no formal search effort had been made and no ships had gone past the Galactic Rim – since it was clear that Red Alert was somewhere on the other side of it. Nothing happened. For a month, Wheeljack absent-mindedly worked on his projects, only to make no progress. That's what led to this moment, when he and Perceptor found themselves separated from a rigid code of honour they had gladly followed until one of their own was in danger.

He looked to Perceptor, hoping to see some sort of encouragement in his companion's deadpan gaze. But his optics were downcast and his face as blank as it had been since the day his emotions were erased.

The door cracked open. The sounds from tavern escaped into the room.

Wheeljack's spark jumped into his throat. Every instinct screamed for him to make a run for it, for the figure in the doorway belonged to one Lockdown. He stood framed in the light for a split second, with every barb and his infamous hook glinting. He surveyed them. He smirked. Then the outside world was once more cut off, along with Wheeljack's sense of morality that came with being a loyal Autobot.

'I was skeptical,' Lockdown grinned. 'I have quite a few clients who have bargained for your heads.'

'I take it back,' Wheeljack whispered to Perceptor. 'Let's go back to the Metroplex.'

Perceptor grabbed his arm and forced him back down. 'We are seeing this through.'

'I wouldn't worry,' said Lockdown, taking his seat at the head of the table. 'We haven't been able to settle on a price. _Yet_.'

Wheeljack swallowed.

'Now, to business,' insisted Lockdown. 'I take it this is something important if you were desperate enough to call me. It's strange. Autobots of your status resorting to calling up a fugitive such as myself. I guess the government isn't as effective as it likes to seem. Albeit, this isn't the first time such high-ranking Autobots have been in need of my talents. Not to name names.'

'Of course not,' Perceptor replied. 'We need valuable information concerning an Autobot that was captured by Decepticons.'

Lockdown laughed softly. 'Let me guess. Red Alert.'

'How'd you know that? !' Wheeljack sat up.

'Your Autobot government may be able to suppress information in this domain, but Decepticons have never felt the need to keep secrets from one another. According to my sources, sometime ago, the infamous Springer was infected with the Hate Plague and made to pass on valuable intel to the Decepticons. When the time was right, Team Chaar plucked Red Alert right from underneath the nose of the "Chosen One" and his "elite" team. Oh, the news spread quite quickly in Decepticon territory. But here, on Cybertron, her disappearance is just a little rumour floating about. I also know that the Elite Guard hasn't acted out of fear of Strika, Blackout, and the rest of them. I don't blame them. Even Decepticons fear Team Chaar and for good reason.'

'Excellent,' Perceptor said. 'I was counting on you being fully informed on the situation. Are you aware of Red Alert's current location, or is she even alive?'

'Do you really think I'll tell you unless you've made me an offer?'

Perceptor's glasses glinted in the light. 'How much do you want?'

'I don't want credits,' said Lockdown. 'You see, if you give me credits, yes – I will have made a slight profit, perhaps, but those credits will soon be drained up by my expenses. What I want is technology.'

'Classified technology?'

'The deadlier, the better.'

'We can't give you technology!' Wheeljack stood, his chair scraping against the floor as he rose to his feet. 'Even you – oh, _Primus_ – even _you_ have to know the consequences of handing over the prototypes of the weapons we're developing!'

'That doesn't concern me. The fact of the matter is, my buyers like weapons.'

'Well, duh! Most of your buyers are slagging Decepticons and who do you think they'll use them on?'

'_Wheeljack_,' Perceptor gestured. Wheeljack leaned in so Perceptor could whisper into his audio receptor. 'If we plan to assist Red Alert, it may be necessary to make a few sacrifices.'

'_Sacrifices_? !' Wheeljack hissed. 'Galactic security is at stake here! Do you realize that if we're caught we could be tried for _treason_? !'

'I thought you did not care.'

'Buying off Lockdown is one thing. Handing over one of our prototypes is something else!'

'I have no intention of handing over one of our prototypes,' said Perceptor. 'Lockdown. We will give you the schematics, but you will have to assemble it for yourself, or else sell them to someone who will.'

'No deal,' Lockdown refused.

'We will include some of our latest research into space bridge technology,' Perceptor persisted. 'Some of our latest calculations suggest that it's possible to transport into a confined space that's moving. For example, if one enters a stationary Space Bridge here on Cybertron, they may be able to transport right onto a freighter half away across the Commonwealth that is moving at a high velocity. Surely that information could be useful to your clients. _Furthermore_, I can arrange to include medical equipment – since I know there is an enormous demand for it on the black market – _and_ fifty-thousand credits.'

'That's quite the bundle. You really are desperate.'

'Do we have an agreement?'

'I want the credits and the schematics now.'

Perceptor brandished a datapad he'd been clutching in his hand. Wheeljack watched over the scientist's soldier, watched him examine the schematics of a recent time-displacing cannon that they'd been developing. Then surrendering it to Lockdown.

'The credits?' asked Lockdown, checking the data.

'Have been placed into an account; here's the number and password for it,' Perceptor tapped on the datapad. 'You can claim it at any time.'

'I trust you two can't be tied to it?'

'I dare you to try to link it to us.'

'If I didn't know better I'd say you'd done this before.'

'Now, "to business,"' Perceptor continued. 'Tell us about Red Alert. Is she online?'

Lockdown smiled. 'Lucky for you and your fifty-thousand credits, she's online. I can't say she's well, but she's online.'

Wheeljack relaxed.

'In all regards, she should be offline,' Lockdown proceeded. 'After Team Chaar got her, they transported her to an old Decepticon outpost. Oil Slick set to work attempting to download information from her processor. That didn't go over so well. Apparently, as a precaution, the Autobots put certain…_security_ measures on her systems. They tried to torture it out of her. That didn't work. What I know is this: as of two days ago, Oil Slick was still trying to get through the safeguards protecting the information that they want. But Oil Slick is hardly incompetent and he's nearing a solution. If you want to go rescue the good doctor, you'd better hop to it.'

'Where's the outpost located exactly?' asked Wheeljack.

'It's in asteroid belt just off the planet Chaar,' said Lockdown. 'The outpost serves as the team's secondary base and it's where Oil Slick's laboratory is set up. That is where you'll find Red Alert. To navigate there, you will have to completely avoid Decepticon detection by avoiding solar systems – and Decepticon colonies – and traveling in open space, until you come to a comet that's in orbit around Chaar's sun. The interference from the comet will mask your approach as it reaches the system. From there, a ship can head straight into the belt. Finding the outpost will be a little more difficult. You wouldn't be able to detect it until you're in short range of it and Cyclonus is on near constant patrol of the area. The outpost is old and its scanners are out-of-date. All you'd have to do is adjust your ship's energy signal until it comes up on their scanners as just background noise. It's then a matter of transporting to the surface and hiking up to the outpost.'

'Couldn't we transport right inside?'

'Not unless the force fields were down. They're just powerful enough to scramble signals; do you really want to risk transporting into solid rock?'

'Point taken.'

'Is that everything?' asked Perceptor.

'Everything that's relevant, so I think I'll leave,' Lockdown abruptly stood up. 'I've already spent too long here. I only want to know one thing. Do you plan to do all this by yourselves?'

'Why do you want to know?' demanded Wheeljack.

'I'm not planning to alert the Decepticons, if that's what you're getting at. Frankly I'm curious as to whether or not you succeed. So are you doing this yourselves?'

Wheeljack exchanged a look with Perceptor.

'We don't have anyone else we can trust to help,' Wheeljack admitted.

'Well, I suggest you _find_ someone you trust,' Lockdown snapped. 'Team Chaar are a composition of the most brutal and elite Decepticons, a team specially put together by Megatron for the sole purpose of obliteration. If they don't offline you on sight, they will take you captive, and I can assure you they won't be as lenient with you two as they're being with Red Alert. While the Autobots may have their policies and paperwork to protect prisoners, Decepticons have no such system. They can do with you what they want. If you want to find the doctor and return to this quadrant alive, take some soldiers.'

'I thought you didn't care what the outcome was,' said Wheeljack.

Lockdown smirked, a hidden amusement lingering somewhere behind his red eyes. 'Oh, but I do care! Someday I want to be able to hunt you two down myself.'

With that, Lockdown slipped out the door and was gone. Wheeljack shivered.

'_Primus_,' Wheeljack turned to Perceptor. 'What a creep! If you'd let me bring some explosives I could'a finished him off easy right here!...I just hope we did the right thing.'

'I believe we did, but the question is, was it the logical thing?' asked Perceptor.

'Don't turn this into another logic debate.'

'How would you know what a "logic debate" is?'

'…Was that sarcasm?'

'I would not concern yourself with Lockdown, however,' Perceptor changed the subject. 'He is the type of Cybertronian who profits off of war, and not just in the sense of earning credits. He truly finds the prospect of the hunt exhilarating and so long as there are tensions between Decepticons and Autobots, he will encourage it. Lockdown certainly knows when to retreat from a conflict. Unfortunately, I believe he also has a point. We cannot risk undertaking this task on our own. Taking along Autobot soldiers would be an excellent precautionary measure.'

'We talked about this, and there isn't anyone who can help us…Unless you want to take Cliffjumper; I'm sure he'd jump at the chance!'

'Cliffjumper is a ludicrous, trigger-happy protoform. If he had as much brains as he has weapons, his intelligence would far exceed mine.'

'You gotta admit he's crazy prepared.'

'Prepared, yes. Self-disciplined, no. He has no sense of restraint and he is too volatile. There's a reason Longarm reassigned him to administrative duties after that "incident."'

'Volatile is exactly the kinda thing we need for this mission!'

'I _said_ "no."'

'No, you didn't. You _implied_ "no," but you didn't _say_ "no."'

'Wheeljack.'

'Yeah?'

'Think of someone else. We are not getting Cliffjumper involved.'

'Alright, _fine, _we'll leave Cliff out of this, but I still say that's a big mistake.' Wheeljack reflected, trying to come up with another, less "volatile" option. '…Autotroopers? They're pretty strong fighters, they're disciplined, and – this is the best part – they're too stupid to ask questions!'

'They also report everything to their superiors and their superiors report everything to the security division. Ultra Magnus would find out about our operation, which we do not want.'

'Until and if we rescue Red Alert.'

'Precisely.'

'What about the Wreckers?' pitched Wheeljack. 'They're mercenaries for hire and they _are_ Autobots, after all. Those guys are always – '

'While skilled at rescuing hostages, they are currently leaderless,' said Perceptor. 'Were Springer operational, I would consider it, but since he is not, we have no means of controlling them. No, the tensions within their group are probably running high. Not to mention they are outlaws in the eyes of the council. I doubt they would improve on the situation, especially in the aftermath of the rescue. Too dangerous.'

'Springer…Springer…Hey! What about Team Athenia?'

'As I recall, you referred to them as a group of "dim-witted afterburners with a few sensor cables loose who couldn't look after an energon cube reserved for the Magnus without one of them eating it."'

'…Yeah…well…'

'I also remember you yelling at Rodimus Minor over the comm. link after you heard about what happened to Red Alert.'

'I wasn't yelling! I was stating my opinion…passionately.'

'Well, whether you were yelling or stating your opinion passionately, I thought you did not want them involved.'

'I didn't, but I don't think we have much of a choice. I mean, there's certainly no one here at the Metroplex that we can trust…and they're all our friends! Let's look at Team Athenia. Springer's not there, but they still have Rodimus and those two other tough guys. They're perfect! They're ideal! Besides, they got their own ship, and I don't think we can borrow one from the Elite Guard without someone noticing.'

'…Very well, you have convinced me,' said Perceptor. 'Let us hope that Team Athenia is open to the idea of working together…_Especially_ after what you called Rodimus Minor.'

'Drop it.'

The debate over, Wheeljack and Perceptor left – under the cover of Maccadam's rowdy music – to return to the Metroplex, to plan their stealthy retreat from the safety of Cybertron into parts unknown.

* * *

They wasted no time. Perceptor arranged for leave for both himself and Wheeljack for two weeks. That was how long they had to find Red Alert, before Oil Slick accessed the information Red Alert was dutifully keeping secret or before Elite Guard got wise.

It had been years since either of them had left the safety of Cybertron. Most of the time the farthest they went from it was Moonbase Two. It wasn't until Wheeljack found himself driving the streets of Athenia did he realize how much he missed his former freedom. But that was freedom he'd willingly surrendered when he got in on the Omega Supreme project way back in the day, feeling it was his best chance at contributing to the war effort.

Wheeljack stepped out into a shipyard and immediately found himself immersed in the crowd. They'd just checked the team's headquarters only to find it abandoned. That left the Sojourner's Passage. Red Alert had told him a few weeks ago that the Passage was an old ship they'd commandeered…and the place where they'd first encountered Team Chaar. All he had to do was to ask a passer-by where the Passage was. The Autobot gravely pointed at a ship at the end of a nearby dock, though it was easy to spot anyways. It was the largest ship there and the only one remotely equipped to take on a Decepticon fleet.

'I hope they're open to the idea,' said Wheeljack, transforming and heading off to the ship. Perceptor followed him. 'If they're not, we're gonna be in a bit of trouble.'

'I trust you have concocted a back-up plan in the event that they are reluctant to help us?' asked Perceptor.

'…I thought you were gonna come up with a back-up plan.'

'It was _your_ idea to recruit them.'

'That doesn't mean I have to come up with all the – ugh, never mind. Just let me do all the talking.'

'Why?'

'Because you're insensitive.'

'I am not insensitive, I am realistic. Perhaps if others did not take things so personally – '

'Perceptor, shut up.'

Now right in front of the Passage, the two of them transformed and took a good look around. The area was oddly vacant of any life.

'Hey!'

Wheeljack turned and nearly ran right into an Autobot who'd snuck up on him from behind. He recognized him almost at once, though this was the first time they had the privilege of meeting face-to-face. His name was Ironhide. He was a bright orange Autobot with a country twang to his voice and a demeanour to match. But Ironhide didn't look the least bit amiable today. Contempt was written all over his faceplate instead.

'Yer not supposed to be here,' Ironhide stated. 'Orders from Rodimus Minor. Yer gonna have to vamoose.'

'What?' Wheeljack blinked.

'Ya heard me!' snapped Ironhide. 'Rodimus don't want anyone in this area. It's official business. Are you gonna leave willingly or am I gonna half'ta escort ya off the premises?'

'Is that a cold breeze I feel?' asked Wheeljack.

'Wheeljack, contain yourself,' Perceptor stepped in. 'Allow us to introduce ourselves. My name is Perceptor. My associate is Wheeljack.'

'I don't care what yer – wait, Perceptor and Wheeljack?' At once Ironhide's entire disposition changed. 'Oh! Hey! Aren't you Red Alert's friends?'

'"Friends" would be an incredibly strong description of our relationship,' said Perceptor.

'You see, that's what I'm talking about when I say "insensitive,"' pointed out Wheeljack.

'Needless to say,' Perceptor persisted, 'we are close colleagues.'

'Ain't ya supposed'ta be all the way back on Cybertron?' inquired Ironhide.

'Probably,' said Wheeljack. 'We came to have a little chat with Rodimus.'

'...Well, he's in the ship right now, but he's – '

'It is important that we speak with him,' said Perceptor.

'…Alright, sure, he's just inside there,' Ironhide gestured to a nearby ramp that led to a platform situated underneath the ship. 'Better make it quick, though. We're leavin' in two hours an' Rodimus is _not_ in a good mood.'

Wheeljack glanced over his shoulder as Ironhide said this. He and Perceptor then ventured into the lower decks of the Passage, following the raised voices easily audible over the otherwise silent yard.

They didn't have to go far to find the infamous Rodimus Minor, having emerged within the Passage's shuttle bay. It had been entirely revamped, from the floor, to the ceiling, to the unused shuttle that took up most of the space. Wheeljack could tell this from the way everything was crisp and clean. He felt a sense of satisfaction he usually got when inspecting a ship that had never been used before. Rodimus was around on the other side. The entire upper half of his body was crammed deep inside an open panel on the wall, while a tool kit sat at his feet. The burgundy Autobot was too preoccupied to notice him.

'Try it now, Brawn!' Rodimus called. 'And please be careful!'

There was a spark followed by a small explosion. Rodimus ducked out just in time.

'Brawn, that is the opposite of being careful!' Rodimus yelled.

Wheeljack heard someone yell "sorry" in the distance.

'Hey,' Wheeljack greeted. 'Rodimus?'

'Depends on who's asking,' said Rodimus, not even looking at them. '…Strange. I thought I told Ironhide not to let anyone up. Brawn! Will you get that thing in working order or else we'll never get off the ground!...Can you make it quick? My team and I are in a bit of a rush.'

'Yeah, sure. We're Wheeljack and Perceptor.'

The reaction was instantaneous. Rodimus froze. He slowly faced them.

'The same Wheeljack and Perceptor who work on secret projects?' asked Rodimus. '_As in_, Wheeljack-and-Perceptor-who-know-Red-Alert?'

'That would be us,' said Perceptor.

Rodimus took a nanoklik to take this all in. He slammed the panel shut.

'I'd say "nice to meet you," but these aren't exactly "nice" circumstances,' said Rodimus. 'I think we talked over the comm. link once. Right after Red Alert was abducted?'

'Uh, well, uh, sorry about that,' Wheeljack rubbed his neck. 'I was little…mad.'

'No kidding. What brings you here? Came to the scene of the crime?'

'Not exactly.'

'Well, something tells me you're not the sort of 'bots to travel all the way from Cybertron just to give your condolences.'

'Uh…no.'

'What are you doing?' inquired Perceptor.

Rodimus pursed his lips.

'My team and I are taking the Passage out to find Red Alert,' said Rodimus. 'Of course, the official story is that we're going out on a routine long-range patrol along the Galactic Rim. As soon as we're out of range of Autobot satellites, we're going to cross into Decepticon territory and…do some detective work until we find her. We don't exactly have a plan…really…We're just going to wing it and hope we produce some results.'

Wheeljack laughed.

'What? Do you think we're crazy?'

'We actually came here to try and recruit your team into helping us go look for Red Alert!'

'That was my second guess. So, what's your strategy?'

'Basically the same as yours, except that we actually know where Team Chaar's keeping Red Alert.'

'Oh.' Rodimus stopped and opened up a second hatch. He seemed to check on some of the wiring. Then, he stared at Wheeljack. 'Does the Elite Guard know you're out here?'

'Well, y'know, we said we were going on vacation, maybe a bit of leave – 'cause, you know, having a friend kidnapped is kinda a stressful experience…And then, uh, we kinda just stepped out and we _might_ have left a recorded message for Ultra Magnus, 'cause, of course, he was kinda…busy…'

'…They have no idea, do they?'

'Well – none.'

Rodimus smirked.

'When you're as well connected as Perceptor here, you get stuff done faster,' said Wheeljack. 'I also wanted to meet R.A.'s team in person. She's told us a _lot_ about you guys.'

'All good?'

'From Red Alert?'

'You're right; how foolish of me,' Rodimus closed the hatch. 'Nevertheless, it's important that she's found. I just hope we're not too late.'

'From what we understand Red Alert is alive for the time being, but we require your assistance to reach her,' said Perceptor. 'Working together, we could accomplish quite a bit more than we would if we were apart.'

'Yeah!' agreed Wheeljack. 'With your muscle and our expertise, we can find R.A. in to time and get back to Athenia before anyone realizes we're missing!'

Rodimus frowned. 'I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that arrangement.'

'Why not?'

'For one thing, _you_,' Rodimus pointed at Perceptor, 'are a member of the council. This is a dangerous mission. I guarantee you we'll encounter hostilities on this little adventure and, to be frank, I don't want to have to rescue _three_ very powerful Autobots. And what if you two are killed on the way? Who do you think the council will blame for that?'

'Relax!' Wheeljack chuckled. 'Just because Perceptor and I spend most of our time in a laboratory, doesn't mean we don't know how to defend ourselves.'

'We did survive the Great War,' added Perceptor.

Rodimus considered this. As he did so, another Autobot appeared through an adjacent door. He was short, green, and obviously had seen his fair share of hardship. Wheeljack guessed that this was Brawn; he matched Red Alert's very negative description of him perfectly.

'How are the repairs going?' asked Rodimus.

'About as bad as can be expected,' replied Brawn. 'I'm used to demolishing things, not putting them back together.' He stopped short when he caught sight of Wheeljack and Perceptor. 'What're the nerds doing here?'

'_Brawn_!' Rodimus exclaimed.

'Oh, sorry. _Lab rats._'

'For your information, the "lab rats" want to join us on the search,' said Rodimus.

'Aw, _geez_,' Brawn face-palmed. 'Well, no one is goin' no where, 'cause this ship ain't gonna get off the ground. I just don't know how to fix it.'

'Look, I'll tell you what,' Rodimus turned to Wheeljack. 'You're an engineer, right? If you two can help us get the Passage in working order, we'll head out together.'

'Fair enough,' said Wheeljack.

'Then let us proceed with the remainder of the repairs,' Perceptor urged. 'Time is of the essence. Red Alert may not have much of that left.'

* * *

Rodimus regretted not getting Wheeljack and Perceptor in on the plan before. They brought with them a sense of expertise and certainty. They brought with them the location of Team Chaar's base, where Red Alert was being held, and even a plan to approach it, avoiding detection from Decepticon scout ships. No longer were they a hastily put together brigade devoid of conviction in their actions, but a rescue crew moving forwards with the professionalism of the Elite Guard. With a few hours, the Passage was back in working condition. Wheeljack even claimed that it work better than the Elite Guard flagship captained by none other than Ultra Magnus.

Yet, there was a subversive side of Wheeljack and Perceptor's presence, Rodimus thought grimly as he watched a three-dimensional diagram of their plan run in front of his optics. The information they carried them him was precise. Too precise. When asked where it came from, Perceptor didn't respond. Wheeljack stammered until managed to change the subject. Normally the lack of clarity about the source of the information would've disturbed Rodimus, but he was too embroiled in their destination to care much. Instead he listened patiently to the plan the two scientists had concocted, knowing very well that this was the only way to rescue Red Alert and avoid perishing in the process.

'Overall, the plan is simple. Get in. Get R.A. Get out.'

Rodimus brought himself out of his thoughts. It was Wheeljack who had spoken from beyond the model of Chaar's solar system. The asteroid they were targeting was highlighted in red.

'And don't die,' Wheeljack added.

'Good advice for any plan,' said Brawn.

'How long does it take to get to Chaar?' asked Rodimus.

'Approximately two solar cycles,' answered Perceptor.

'Great. Two solar cycles cruising through open space, fully exposed to Decepticon attack. Tell me, do we want Team Chaar to be warned and be prepared to tear us to pieces when we get there?'

'Gosh, you're so _negative_,' Wheeljack rolled his optics.

'We already considered the risk of such a forward approach,' Perceptor continued. 'Unfortunately, the Decepticons inhabit most of the solar systems, so navigating a passage through them would cause us to be detected by their sensors. By traversing open space, we have a full range of vision. By timing our approach exactly, we can avoid routine Decepticon patrols.'

'I'd still like to know how you came by such meticulous information.'

'_We_ will not tell you that.'

Rodimus glowered.

'Once we're at the asteroid,' Wheeljack proceeded, ignoring the look Rodimus was giving him. 'You three can transport down from the surface and take it from there. Perceptor 'n me will do aerial recon.'

'I hope we don't have to remind you that you are sorely outnumbered and confronting Team Chaar in battle should be a last resort,' said Perceptor.

'We'll see about bein' outnumbered,' Brawn grinded his servos together.

'Brute force will not gain you anything.'

'Sure it will. It'll make _me_ feel a heck of a lot better!'

'_Hey_!' Rodimus got in between Brawn and Perceptor, and just in time, too. 'We'll worry about our ground plans once we actually get to Team Chaar's base. Let's worry about getting there first. Agreed?'

Everyone nodded.

'Then let's get to our posts. Ironhide, get the last of Perceptor and Wheeljack's supplies on board the ship. The rest of us will be waiting on the bridge. We leave the moment everything's on board the ship.'

The group divided. Rodimus headed off with Wheeljack and Brawn alongside him, while Perceptor departed to monitor Ironhide's progress. He resented Brawn rushing to keep up with him, because he knew what was coming. Brawn was going to do something he'd been doing since Red Alert disappeared. The veteran didn't say anything until they were standing in the elevator, being whisked away to the heights of the ship, so that Rodimus could not escape.

Rodimus could feel Brawn boring into him. His sharp glare made up for his lack of height.

'_Go – see – Springer_,' Brawn urged.

'Are you seriously bringing this up right before we have to leave?' asked Rodimus.

'Duh. Are you gonna go see Springer or not?'

'No.'

The elevator doors opened and they stepped out onto the bridge.

'He's unconscious!' Brawn pointed out, tagging after him. 'Slaggit, Hot Rod! He's not even gonna remember anything you say to him! You don't even have to say anything! You just have to stand there so you can say "I visited" later on!'

'I'm _busy_,' Rodimus stressed.

'Oh, for cryin' out – you haven't even sent him a "get well" card!' exclaimed Brawn.

'One doesn't normally send "get well" cards to 'bots one has maimed for life.'

'One doesn't normally ignore a friend!'

'We're not friends, we're _colleagues_, and as I recall, you two aren't exactly best friends, either!'

'Wha – ch – isn't it customary for a leader to visit injured subordinates?'

'Brawn, why don't you go help Ironhide?'

'You're stalling. You're going to have to – '

'Beat it!'

Brawn paused. He was probably hoping that Rodimus would suddenly admit that he was right and that he would go visit Springer right away. When that didn't happen, Brawn, pressing his lips together, walked out of the bridge.

Unfortunately, Wheeljack was still there.

'…Is this the same Springer who…' Wheeljack started.

Rodimus nodded. 'Yes. The infamous Springer. A rebel at spark. He never really adapted to the concept of working with a bunch of amateurs like us; he's been in the business way longer than any of us, even Brawn. He disobeyed orders. He followed his own agenda. He hates authority and he doesn't keep that quiet. He survived the war, he survived countless battles, and he managed to survive fights with the Decepticon Heavy Brigade. All that, and I took him down with a single shot to the head. He's in the infirmary right now.'

'Is he going to go offline?'

'No. It would be easier if he was.'

Wheeljack's optics widened slightly.

'If he'd gone offline, I wouldn't have had to face him again,' said Rodimus. 'He wouldn't have had to own up to reality that in the end, it was he who had betrayed us to Team Chaar, who had subjected Red Alert to gruelling torture. No, his life would have simply ended and that would have been the end of his suffering. How do you think 'bots are going to see him when the truth gets out? If he'd died, he would've been remembered as a tragic hero, torn apart by forces he couldn't control. Since he's alive, they're going to hate him. He's going to take the blame for something he didn't mean to do and he's going to believe that, because he's the ideal Autobot. Springer believes wholeheartedly in justice.'

Wheeljack was silent.

'As the leader of this team,' Rodimus continued, 'it's my responsibility to tell him what happened. I don't even know if I'll be able to look him in the face again without being reminded of what one moment where I had to decide to pull the trigger or not, without wondering if I should just kill him then to spare him of the guilt. I wanted to go rescue Red Alert and get back here before he came out of it. Perhaps if he knew that Red Alert was alive and well and everything turned out alright, that would alleviate the reality…But somehow I doubt it.'

'…That's a problem…I don't even think Perceptor could give you a solution to that…Is he going to be arrested for what he did when he recovers?'

'They were. Until I called Kup and he convinced Internal Affairs that Springer was in no way responsible for his actions. They dropped the matter after he intervened.'

'Well, if there's one thing good ol' Kup knows how to do, it's how to intervene,' said Wheeljack. '…I'm sorry, Rodimus.'

'Don't be. Just focus on Red Alert. Nothing else matters.'

It was the arrival of the others that saved Rodimus from further questions about Springer. Without waiting for invitation, they took their respective stations, with Wheeljack manning the helm and Rodimus standing on a platform that overlooked the entirety of the bridge. He thought back to when they'd first acquired the Passage and visions of grandeur played out in his head. He'd practically expected fanfare. Now they were stealing away in the dead of night on a forbidden mission, about to embark on what could be the Passage's first and last voyage.

There would be no dramatic speeches. This was business.

'All stations ready?'

Everyone reported that they all systems were ready to go.

'Okay, we're off to a good start,' said Rodimus. 'Wheeljack, start your engines and back us off from the colony. '

'And if the Autotroopers make an attempt to stop us?' inquired Perceptor.

'We can outrun their ships easily. Just pretend we have radio troubles or something. Go along our agreed route until we get to the Galactic Rim.'

The last Rodimus saw of Athenia was when he looked out the front windows and saw the flickering lights of the city's windows, windows that steadily grew into simple beams of gold snuffed out by the sheer glare of starlight. He paused for a moment, thinking of Springer, thinking of how when he'd come here just over a stellar cycle ago he hadn't expected any excitement that he craved. Now he wished that Athenia was dull.

He forced himself to turn away. There would be hell to pay for this.


	13. An Excess of JaAm

**A/N:** So, it took me two months to update this silly story. That's impressive.

* * *

**An Excess of JaAm**

'Oh, I should probably warn you, if you come out on the other side and you're missing a few vital body parts, don't panic; they just probably disintegrated during transport. Just so you know.'

'Wait, what? !'

Rodimus turned to protest, but it was too late. Suddenly he was falling at a very fast rate, followed by the gripping realization that falling generally meant he'd have to land at some point. He glimpsed the stars and the surface of the asteroid coming dangerously close. Was he going to come apart when he hit it?

Then his feet hit the ground. Pain rippled up from both his legs and he stumbled forwards; if Ironhide hadn't grabbed his arm at the last minute, he would've gone straight off the side of a precarious cliff. His next instinct was to make sure that all of his limbs were attached.

He looked to Ironhide and Brawn – who'd materialized on either side of him – to see that they, too, were checking for missing body parts before surveying the landscape. Long story short, it was an asteroid, vast and lonely in a commonwealth where it was difficult to find a place that had not been colonized by the Autobots. The landscape was chopped and several mountains shot up around them, so it was impossible to get a sense of direction. It was not unlike the asteroids Rodimus had spent many training exercises on back at the Autobot Academy and now he was going to have to face the ultimate test on one.

Rodimus was just relieved to be out of the Passage for the first time in four days. The tension on the ship had been affecting everyone. At first they'd managed to pass through Decepticon space with relative ease, until they detected a ship on their long range scanners and they'd been forced to hide in a nebula for two days, crouching in the dark and hoping the 'cons would pass over their location. But despite it being dark, that didn't make it quiet. They'd argued endlessly about whether or not they should engage the easily outmatched Decepticon ship. The division in their makeshift team had been prominent and nearly put everyone to the breaking point.

Fortunately the Decepticons _had_ left, but not without delaying them, though they'd gone over their plan so many times that Rodimus was beginning to play it out in his sleep. It was during that time in the nebula when Perceptor had asked what they would do if Team Chaar's scanners _were_ working; it was doubtless that they would detect them in that circumstance. Just like that, Perceptor managed to unravel all their plans with one, cold dose of hard logic.

Their optics then went to the sky in time to see the Sojourner's Passage pass low overhead before jumping to light speed and disappearing. It had been the only way to get them to the surface undetected – a brainchild of Perceptor's. Come in low. Transport using Wheeljack's experimental site-to-site transwarp invention, which he'd pointed out was extremely unstable and still in the prototype stage. Then the Passage would make a jump and disappear, while Rodimus led Brawn and Ironhide to locate Red Alert and then investigate their best options, if there were any.

Most of all, Rodimus was beginning to regret not being more forceful about search efforts with the government, not that they would've listened to him anyways.

But they were here now and there was no turning back.

'…Do you think he was serious?' Rodimus asked. 'About missing body parts, I mean?'

'I can't tell with that guy,' said Brawn. 'Did anyone else hear all those explosions that came from the cargo bay?'

'Yeah, what were those?'

'Dunno. When I asked Wheeljack, he got this clouded look on his faceplate. When I asked Perceptor, he said I shouldn't ask.'

'Huh. No wonder whenever we bring them up Red Alert changes the subject. Do you think that – '

Rodimus was abruptly wrenched backwards. It was Ironhide. He'd grabbed both him and Brawn and was quickly dragging them back down a slope, kicking up dust and pebbles while at it, before hitting a low-hanging cavern. He threw the two of them inside and followed shortly.

'What was _that_ for? !' demanded Brawn.

In response, Ironhide pointed towards the sky.

It looked like the Passage had vacated the area just in time. A jet was flying overhead, sending ripples through the air as it shot past them at sonic speed. No sooner had they seen it before it disappeared behind a nearby mountain.

'Cyclonus,' determined Rodimus. 'At least we're in the right place.'

'What now?' asked Ironhide.

'We find their hideout,' said Rodimus. 'C'mon.'

Rodimus delved deeper into the cave, which sloped downwards into a flat, open space with a roof supported by pillars of rock. The ceiling was low and claustrophobic, while the floor continued to slope down into a chasm. He shone his headlights down to see that it sloped deeper and deeper underneath the cliff where they'd taken shelter. Exchanging a final look with Brawn, he was the first to hit a relatively flat surface. From here everything opened up to a vast tunnel that was obviously not natural, instead winding into the rock with a bent purpose.

He followed the path until they came to a wider area. Here he stopped and turned to the other two, mere shadows in the dim light. Rodimus activated the holographic map provided by Perceptor.

'Here's the outpost.' Rodimus indicated a structure situated on a cliff side, a fair distance away from their landing site. 'These old tunnels our best bet for approaching it, but some of them are unstable and others have already collapsed. Brawn, you used to work in places like this, so you go first.'

'You want me to walk straight into the danger?'

'You got a problem with that?'

'Are you kidding? Step aside!'

Since the terrain offered a bit of traction, they were able to transform and the journey deeper into the tunnels proceeded much faster than Rodimus had thought it would. At first it was rocky. Then it levelled out and they went along a wide tunnel that had obviously been used as a sort of road by the Cybertronians who had once used this mine. Rodimus spotted elevator shafts and old electrical lights swung precariously above their heads. He tried to memorize their route, but found that he quickly lost their way, and he decided that if they were in need to make a getaway, this would be a good way to go. Most of these places were too small for a regular-sized Decepticon to fit into.

Soon they came to a section where most of the roof had collapsed to reveal that the stars were just mere meters above them, but the space was too small for Rodimus and Ironhide to squeeze through. They debated their next move until Brawn suggested taking the elevator to a level below them so that they could find a way to come out on the other side and continue their journey. The elevator, itself, rocked so badly that they ended up going down one at a time and discovered that there was no immediate route back up to the tunnel they'd been in. Thus, they'd had no choice but to take the tunnel further along. This time they didn't get too far when they realized that the tunnel only got smaller, forcing them to turn back and follow it back the way they came.

The menial progress they made was made worse by Ironhide. It sounded callous, but it was true. While Brawn was small and the mine represented his natural environment, Ironhide was enormous and it was clear that he had a touch of claustrophobia. He couldn't navigate in the few places they managed to reach. Rodimus considered telling Ironhide to find his way back to the main tunnel they'd long since left behind and waiting there for them. But that seemed too drastic and he needed the Indestructible Ironhide to free Red Alert, alive or otherwise. Still, Ironhide was slowing him down and time was one thing they didn't have.

Following in Brawn's footsteps, Rodimus tried not too hard to think about Red Alert's situation. Every time he did, he was gripped with panic and fear, and for someone he didn't really get along with, someone who they didn't know was even in one piece.

So why was he risking his life and the life of his remaining team mates to do this?

The answer was clear: because if he didn't, he'd spend the rest of his life saying to himself "I didn't try."

* * *

Rodimus examined the control panels. He was beginning to think that navigating this terrain was next to impossible.

After hiking around, dragging Ironhide and Brawn the whole time, he'd finally decided that they had to stop and get their bearings. He'd left his two team mates in a tunnel further back while he scouted ahead and came across a control room, complete with glass windows that overlooked a vast cavern stuffed to its breaking points with machinery that had long gone out of use and – in addition – old Decepticon equipment that he didn't even recognize from the history tapes. His best guess was that during the war, the Decepticons had used the cavern to store some ammunition and basic supplies, and when it was lost, abandoned it.

In any case, what had caught his attention was a service elevator on the far side of the cavern. If they could just find a way to get into it, all their problems were solved. It could take them right back up to the surface. Smiling in satisfaction, Rodimus headed back to the temporary campsite.

When he returned, Ironhide and Brawn were talking quietly and didn't register his approach, but when they saw him, they abruptly stopped speaking. The group had stopped at a juncture that spread out into several different directions, none of which looked like the right way.

'There's a cavern on the other side of this wall,' Rodimus announced. 'I saw a service elevator on the other side we could probably use, but I don't see a way in there.'

'We could knock a hole in the wall,' suggested Ironhide.

'That is _not_ a good idea,' said Brawn. 'Trust me, I tried that a few times an' it doesn't usually produce the desired results. Unless you _want_ to be buried under twenty million tons of dirt.'

'We're not gettin' anywhere just sittin' here.'

'You're right. We're not.' Brawn looked at Rodimus. 'So maybe _you_ should start stalling and start thinking of a plan.'

'I don't see you suggesting anything,' retorted Rodimus.

'Hey, I'm done planning. I did enough "planning" back in the war. You think of something.'

Rodimus glared, but decided he wasn't in the mood to get into an argument over something so menial.

'Look, there must be a way down through one of these tunnels, so let's just pick one and get a move on,' said Rodimus.

Rodimus selected a random tunnel and the others followed hesitantly. As they went it steadily became darker and more claustrophobic until it became difficult to move. All the while, he searched for some means of exit into the larger cavern, except nothing came and the only thing he encountered was darkness.

Eventually the tunnel came to an abrupt end and the ground suddenly felt brittle underneath his feet. They stopped right in front of the rock wall.

'Well, it's a dead end,' Brawn stated.

'I don't know _what_ we would do without your incredible observational skills, Brawn,' said Rodimus.

'Uh…guys…' said Ironhide. 'Problem.'

'What sort of problem?' Rodimus asked, still examining the dead end.

'I'm stuck.'

Rodimus turned. Sure enough, Ironhide's shoulders were wedged in between the tunnel's walls.

'You're not stuck,' contradicted Rodimus.

'Yeah. I am.'

'No, you're not,' Rodimus insisted. 'All you need is a…push…or something.'

'Or a crane,' Brawn muttered.

'C'mon, I'm serious!' exclaimed Ironhide. 'Get me out.'

'Okay, okay, don't freak out or anything. Brawn, let's push him back.'

Rodimus and Brawn braced themselves against Ironhide and shoved. He already knew it was fruitless because trying to move Ironhide was like trying to move Springer when he was determined to do something. It just didn't happen.

After a few minutes of straining to free Ironhide, something finally happened. Bits of dirt fell down on Rodimus's head, followed shortly by a low trembling that nearly threw him off balance.

'Wait, FREEZE!' Brawn urged.

They did so. The rumbling came to a gradual start.

'Ironhide, don't move,' Brawn urged. 'You're the only thing that's holding up the ceiling!'

'I can't believe this is happening,' Rodimus sighed. 'Now what do we do?'

'Let's see. If we move Ironhide, we bring down the tunnel. If we don't move Ironhide, we're stuck in here forever. Which would you prefer? Being buried alive or slowly rustin' to death in the dark?'

'How about less stating the obvious and more trying to find a solution?'

'GUYS!' Ironhide shouted. '_Primus_, will ya hurry up an' think of a way to get me out!'

Rodimus and Brawn exchanged a look, but both – again – dropped it. With few options, they braced against Ironhide's body. They continued to shove. However, the only results yielded were that of the ceiling crumbling down on them. Rodimus's footing slipped.

The rock cracked beneath his feet.

He exchanged a look of sheer terror with his two team mates before they plummeted downwards.

They didn't get far before Rodimus hit the ground feet first. He collapsed forwards, just in time for Ironhide to slam right on top of him, seemingly crushing his body. Dust thrust up into the air and for that terrifying split second, his vision cut out and he was left in a place between consciousness and unconsciousness. His body clenched up, then relaxed, and his eyes opened up.

Ironhide coughed, breaking the silence.

'Wow,' he choked. 'That was nasty. You okay, Brawn?'

'For the most part,' Brawn said from somewhere nearby. He didn't even sound phased. 'I _told_ you that would bring the roof down. Didn't I say it?...Where's Hot Rod?'

'Uh…I think I landed on him.'

'Ironhide,' Rodimus groaned. 'Off. Now.'

'Whoops.'

The weight lifted. He looked upwards through a dark hole in the ceiling.

'Sorry,' Ironhide appeared in his range of vision. '…You alright?'

'I'm alright,' croaked Rodimus. 'I just feel like a building landing on me.'

'Sorry.'

Rodimus rolled back onto his feet though his legs still screamed in protest. He staggered slightly, but managed to keep his balance and surveyed the immediate area.

They'd dropped into a wide tunnel, not unlike the tunnels they'd seen before, yet different altogether. Bright florescent lights lined the ceiling and the passage curved haphazardly through the rock.

'…I don't think this is part of the mine,' said Brawn. 'It's too clumsy. The lights shouldn't be working either.'

'This wasn't on the map,' Rodimus agreed, checking it briefly. He looked up. 'Well, we're not getting back up that way.'

Wordlessly they followed the passage on a steady incline back towards the surface and for a fleeting moment Rodimus hoped that it would eventually open up. In the meantime they came across recent signs of life in the form of treaded footprints and abandoned tools. The tunnels were oddly still aside from them, but brightly lit to ward off the darkness. His mind immediately assumed that Decepticons must frequent this tunnel. Only they would have use for these, which meant that it could lead them straight to Red Alert. On the other hand, it could also lead them straight to a Decepticon.

But it didn't. Within minutes, the tunnel levelled off and Rodimus could see a larger opening up ahead. He hurried towards it, pausing only to check for danger, and stepped out into a new cavern. Light streaked in from the hole ripped in the ceiling. And underneath the hole was the wreckage of a ship.

He did a double take. The ship was wedged amongst enormous boulders that had obviously been cracked and uprooted from their spots by an earthshaking crash. It was on an angle on the slope and the roof of the cavern opened up to a deep chasm, though from the entrance Rodimus could see the distant stars. It was a relatively small ship; judging by its long and narrow design, it appeared to be pretty old and somewhere in the category of a shuttle. Rodimus guessed from the scorch and dent marks that it had gotten into a firefight. Whatever happened then was anybody's guess. Clearly, though, the pilot had survived – at least until recently.

For a few nanokliks no one was capable of speaking. It was Brawn who went up first to the shuttle to run a servo along the side. He stopped at an insignia printed on it. Though faded, the Autobot brand stood out like black against white.

'…Something tells me this doesn't belong to Team Chaar,' said Rodimus. 'How long do you think it's been here?'

'Forever,' suggested Brawn.

'I know this shuttle,' announced Ironhide.

'What?'

'Well, I know the _style_; I don' know _this_ shuttle in particular,' Ironhide chuckled. 'Yup, we use these guys back at the energon farms. Use 'em for towin' an' quick transport between colonies. She's a bit temperamental, but she's sturdy. Funny seeing one all the way out here.'

'Why's that?' asked Rodimus.

'Well, they don' handle travel well,' explained Ironhide. 'If she got here all the way from the farms, it's no wonder she crashed!'

'...I bet we could use this thing. Do you think it can fly?'

'Depends on how badly the engines were damaged.'

'What about weapons?'

'Look, I'm a security officer. What I know about engineering is limited to turnin' it off and on.'

When Rodimus looked to Brawn, he, too, shook his head.

'Let's take a little look inside for now,' said Rodimus.

'Are you crazy? !' exclaimed Brawn. 'What if this thing's been booby trapped by the 'cons?'

'Since when are you cautious?'

'Since I fell for one of those traps back in the war!'

'I guess there's only one way we can find out if it's booby trapped or not.'

'WAIT!'

Rodimus cracked the door open. Brawn cringed.

'See?' Rodimus said. 'No explosion. All's clear.'

Rodimus entered the shuttle. It was cramped and there was only one walkway that stretched from the cockpit in the front to a set of stairs that led down to the engine room. The moment he entered his forehead came into contact with a plastic jar that was hanging off the ceiling. He soon realized that these jars were strung up and down the ally. Some were painted on the inside with bright colours, while others had random phrases written in a distorted, excruciating language ridden with confusion. Rodimus briefly examined one before proceeding to the cockpit.

The computer style was old. It was clear at once that it was broken somehow, because when he tried to access the computer, he came up unsuccessful.

'Has it blown up yet?'

Rodimus jumped as Brawn came up beside him.

'You realize they could be torturing Red Alert to death while you're "investigating?"' Brawn deadpanned.

'I know, but you gotta admit this is pretty – '

Brawn grabbed him by one of his wings and dragged him out of the ship.

'Red Alert,' Brawn said. 'Rescue. Decepticons. _Now_.'

'But the ship – '

'As I recall, you already got a ship. A ship I still think is jinxed. Isn't that eccentric enough for you?'

'But this – '

'Is a piece of junk. What about your doctor?'

'We can rescue her any time – '

'Have you been hearing anything I've just said? ! Now what's it going to be? The ship or the doctor?'

Rodimus rubbed his chin. '…Well…we _could_ always get another doctor…'

Brawn face-palmed.

'What the heck is this?'

Rodimus and Brawn looked up and he abruptly noticed that Ironhide wasn't among them. His voice had echoed out from one of the adjoining tunnels. Sure enough, further in, they found Ironhide was examining a cylinder container with his headlight, an uncharacteristically concentrated expression on his faceplate.

'JaAm…' said Ironhide.

'Uh, what's that?' asked Rodimus

'It's written on the lid,' elaborated Ironhide. He tossed it over.

Rodimus rotated the container in his hands. It was made of a lightweight plastic and a green, gel-like substance was plastered against the inside. Sure enough, "JaAm" was written on the lid, still clear and precise and what's more, it resembled the jars strung up in the shuttle perfectly.

'What's JaAm?' Rodimus asked.

'Never heard of it,' said Brawn.

'Ditto,' repeated Ironhide.

'Sounds like a chemical to me,' Brawn added.

'Hey, Wheeljack?' Rodimus opened a comm. link. 'Have you ever heard of anything called "JaAm?"'

'"_JaAm_?"' Wheeljack repeated. '_Uh, I'll check the database, but I know I've never heard of it_. _What's going on down there?_'

Rodimus briefly recounted how they'd come across the shuttle.

'You're not detecting any other energy signatures in the area, are you?' asked Rodimus.

'_Just you three_,' confirmed Wheeljack. '_I wouldn't put too much faith on the sensors, though; there's a _lot_ of interference._'

'Hey, here's another one!'

He looked up. Brawn had wandered a few yards away and was waving a second JaAm jar at them. Rodimus took a good look around. There were several jars spread throughout the clearing.

'Alright, spread out!' Rodimus directed. 'Find as many of these JaAm jars as you can.'

Their trio separated into different directions. Rodimus kept his optics fixated on the ground. He didn't go twenty yards before coming across two jars, then three, then five more. Eventually it came to the point where he couldn't carry anymore, but the jars seemed to be randomly strewn throughout the cavern. Whoever they belonged too was either obsessive or quite the litterer. He was guessing it was both.

Rodimus turned a few corners and lost sight of Ironhide and Brawn; perhaps this was unwise because every instinct suddenly told him he was being watched.

He grabbed his bow.

From the darkness before him, a mass of metal leapt out and tackled him to the ground.

'HI!'

Rodimus blinked. He was looking up at a very cheerful Cybertronian mere inches from his faceplate.

'What're you doing?' asked the Cybertronian. 'Are you looking for something? So am I! I like looking for stuff! That's probably 'cause I keep loosin' stuff…'

'What the…' Rodimus blinked.

The stranger rolled off of him. 'Oh! You found my JaAm jars!' He scooped up all the containers. Rodimus sat up and rubbed the side of his head.

He tried to take in the appearance of the Cybertronian cradling the jars. He knew him. He knew that face, he knew that walk, and he certainly knew that voice brimming with excitement at the smallest thing. The paint was slightly faded, but it _was_ him.

'I know you,' Rodimus realized. He snapped his fingers, trying to grab a name. 'Hot Short! Hot Mess. Hot something. What was that other – ?'

'Jar.'

'Really? Somehow "Hot Jar" doesn't sound right…'

'No. _Jar_.'

The Autobot was indicating a jar just near him. Before Rodimus could think about picking it up, the Autobot had reached across him, grabbed the jar, and examining its nonexistent contents. Nevertheless, he cracked it open and turned it upside down.

'Y'know, I've been wandering for an hours and I can't find a single bit of JaAm around here anywhere!' the Autobot said. 'Which is funny 'cause normally I have spare jars everywhere, but this time I don't and I can't find anything anywhere; speaking of which, have you seen any JaAm anywhere? Or maybe not? Or maybe yes? Or no? JaAm! JaAm! JaAm! Just sayin' it drives me crazy and then I actually take it and suddenly everything in my mind kinda turns to mush! Can I keep these jars? Thanks. Hey, do you like fire?'

He said this all _very_ quickly.

'Hello? Hello? You're not answering. Have I stunned you?' Hot Shot waved a servo in front of his face.

'Hey, Rodimus? !' Ironhide's voice echoed down the tunnel. 'You find anything?'

'You have friends? !' Hot Shot exclaimed. 'This is great!'

Hot Shot shoved Rodimus to the ground and bolted down the tunnel that lead back to the shuttle.

'Uh oh,' Rodimus leapt to his feet and chased after him. 'IRONHIDE! Catch that Autobot!'

'What Auto – what the slag?'

Rodimus rounded the corner in time to see Hot Shot slam into Ironhide and Brawn, knocking both of them to the ground. He made a beeline straight for the shuttle at a speed that rivalled Blurr, but no sooner had he neared it when Ironhide picked himself up and made a heroic leap for him.

There was a muffled explosion, a flash of red light, and smoke poured out into the cavern. Rodimus's spark skipped a few beats and he opened his mouth to call out for Ironhide, but it was unnecessary. Mere seconds later, the smoke cleared, and he saw Ironhide holding the struggling Hot Shot off the ground.

'You take your servos off of me!' Hot Shot demanded. '…I'm contagious!'

Ironhide dropped him. Hot Shot was roaring with laughter on the floor.

Rodimus approached them. By now, Hot Shot had calmed down and was now looking at all of them with keen but disorientated interest. He'd never expected to see this face again. After he'd seen Strika carry off Hot Shot after he literally saved his life, he and the others had theorized that he must've been killed. But he was a survivor, a profound key to Team Chaar that Rodimus knew might end up being vital to recovering Red Alert.

'You know him?' asked Brawn.

Rodimus turned to Ironhide. 'Don't let him out of your sight.'

He shepherded Brawn away from Hot Shot.

'Brawn, do you remember when we first found the Passage?' inquired Rodimus when they were a safe distance away.

'Hard to forget,' said Brawn. 'I had to save all your fan belts and I _never_ got a bonus for it.'

Rodimus turned to where the Autobot was sitting under the watchful gaze of Ironhide. 'His name's Hot Shot. He's the same Autobot I met on the Passage.'

'I remember. So what's he doing here?'

'He was being held by Team Chaar until he escaped the first time and showed up on the Passage,' Rodimus continued. 'He must've gotten away again and come here.'

'You think that's his ship?'

'Well, he obviously _lives_ there. I don't know if it's his ship or not.'

'…He's got an accent. Sounds like he's from the energon farms. Y'know, I remember hearing rumours about Decepticons capturing Autobots from those isolated colonies an' experimenting on them.'

Just as Brawn finished saying this, they looked up in time to see Hot Shot spinning around in numerous circles. He went right past them and crashed into Ironhide, falling to the ground, laughing his head off.

'It wouldn't surprise me,' said Rodimus. 'Hey, if he's escaped from Team Chaar…he could lead us to the outpost.'

'He would probably know a good escape route,' added Brawn.

'He has insight into how Team Chaar operates.'

'He'll know where they're holding R.A.'

Rodimus and Brawn exchanged a look. Then they stormed back to where Hot Shot was now standing on his head for no apparent reason.

'Hot Shot,' Rodimus said firmly. 'Do you remember me?'

'Dunno,' Hot Shot replied. 'Hard to tell when you're standin' on your head like that.'

Rodimus pushed him over. Hot Shot got back onto his feet.

'Oh!' laughed Hot Shot. 'I think I – no. Don't know you.'

'Yes, you do.'

'Ah – no, I don't. If I did remember you – and I know I don't remember a lot of things, but this time I really don't remember not just because of the JaAm, but because I don't actually remember anything. What was the question?'

'We met on the Passage,' Rodimus continued. 'Remember? You were running from Team Chaar?...No? Don't you remember Strika or Blackout or Oil Slick – ?'

'WHERE? !' Hot Shot screamed. He dived behind Ironhide and when he emerged, he was visibly trembling.

'…Well, at least his memory core is still working. Somewhat.' Rodimus circled around Ironhide to get at Hot Shot, but the Autobot continued to back away from him desperately until Rodimus finally got a hold of his ankle and dragged him away from his hiding spot. 'I need information. You are going to give it to me.'

'Why should I?' Hot Shot demanded.

Rodimus came closer, until he was an inch away from Hot Shot's face. 'Because if you don't, I'm gonna let Brawn here beat you to a pulp.'

'…That's a pretty good reason.'

'You know Team Chaar. Correct?'

'No – maybe. Sure. What about them? They have JaAm. They're Decepticons. Do not cross. End of story.'

'They have a hideout on this asteroid and I need to know where it is _exactly_.'

'I tell you where it is on one condition.'

'I gave you a nonnegotiable condition.'

'Well, here's another condition. I'll tell you where it is…as long as I get JaAm.'

Rodimus rolled his optics. 'Fine. I'll give you JaAm. _After_ you tell me what I want to know. Do these tunnels lead up to the hideout?'

'Maybe.'

'How far is it?'

'Far.'

'Do the Decepticons _know_ about these tunnels?'

'Dunno.'

Rodimus loomed over Hot Shot. He'd had enough. 'Hot Shot, I'm going to give you the facts. A member of my team has been captured by Team Chaar and is being held in that outpost and I fully intend to exhaust every available option in order to rescue her. Right now, you are one of those "available options" and you are going to tell me _exactly_ what I want to know.'

Hot Shot blinked up at him with a curious expression. Then he smiled.

'_Oh_, you didn't tell me this was a _rescue_ mission!' Hot Shot chuckled nervously. 'Boy, that changes everything. You must be for that – for that femme they dragged in a couple of megacycles ago.'

'A femme?' Rodimus's interest peaked. 'Did you see her? Is she alright?'

'Yeah, I've seen her a few times. Shiny. White. Doesn't like JaAm. Sort of. I saw here when I was looking for JaAm. Have you seen any JaAm around, by the way? These tunnels,' Hot Shot indicated the cavern around them, 'they go right under the 'cons hideout. I sneak in there to get JaAm an' stuff. Anyways, every so often, they bring in these Autobots an' they do "something" to them. I don't know what, 'cause they were supposed to do "something" to me but they never got the chance. At least I think they didn't. To be honest I don't remember much about that part except it was kinda – y'know – _painful_.'

Hot Shot laughed a little manically.

'So, _do tell_, what's the deal with this femme?' Hot Shot leaned against the nearest boulder. 'Is she important? She got information they need? They got her for kicks? What? C'mon, spill it out. This is important if you want to see your lovely femme ever again.'

'She works with the Ministry of Science,' explained Rodimus.

'Wow, she's in for it,' chuckled Hot Shot. 'Okay, here's the deal. A 'bot like that is gonna end up hooked up to Oil Slick's computers in his laboratory. They tried to suck information out of me but they kinda _failed_ because there is nothin' useful in this processor of mind. I never thought I'd find an advantage to not being smart.'

'Do you know if she's alive?'

'Oh, sure, if she was offline, you'd know. You'd hear 'em screaming. These tunnels really give off some good echoes. Course, they always have to do that at night, so you can't get a wink of recharge…'

'Can you lead us to where they're holding her?' asked Rodimus.

'Why?'

Rodimus folded his arms.

'Oh, right. I get pummelled.'

'You really want to trust this guy, Hot Rod?' demanded Brawn.

'I'd listen to him if I were you,' said Hot Shot.

'Have you got a better idea?' Rodimus replied. 'He knows where Red Alert is.'

'He could be lying.'

'That's a good point,' Hot Shot nodded.

'If you want to go in blind, be my guest,' Rodimus said. 'This is a good opportunity to get a lay of the land and I'm not going to pass it up. Besides, if he's lying, you know what we do with liars.'

'In that case,' Brawn smirked. 'I hope he _is_ lying.'

For the first time, Hot Shot looked mildly nervous, and – somewhere in the back of his mind – Rodimus felt a sort of grim satisfaction.

* * *

They literally had to drag Hot Shot. At first, Hot Shot had been cooperative and even excited, but as they drew deeper into a series of tunnels the Autobot navigated, he became reluctant. Brawn was now scouting up ahead, leaving Rodimus and Ironhide to deal with their new prisoner. This wasn't exactly what Rodimus had had in mind when it came to going after Decepticreeps.

Perceptor wasn't pleased with the situation, as he'd made perfectly clear when Rodimus had contacted him and brought him up-to-date on the situation. Admittedly Rodimus could see his point, but then again, this whole operation was a risk. The chance with Hot Shot seemed to be minute in comparison and Rodimus was going to explore every option to save Red Alert, especially if these tunnels gave them a quick and easy getaway.

As they went along, the tunnels became narrower and more difficult to manoeuvre. They went ahead in pitch darkness and in single file. Sometimes Rodimus was able to sense that they were mere feet from the surface, to the point where at one point heavy vibrations from above sent soil raining into their tunnel. They'd frozen in anticipation while he could hear deep voices right above their heads. Rodimus half-hoped they _would_ find them; that they _would_ be forced into combat. Then he remembered how easily they'd defeated them on the last two times they'd encountered one another and he was immediately dissuaded from the idea. He had to do this the easy way.

Eventually they found a service elevator Hot Shot claimed led to the last series of tunnels that would lead them straight into the base. They boarded it – rather reluctantly – and soon found themselves blinded by brightly-lit, well-maintained tunnels. These were obviously the newest of them. And the most frequented. Hiding just out of sight, Hot Shot pushed ahead of them and peered around the corner.

'Do the Decepticons ever come down here?' Rodimus asked.

'Shh!' Hot Shot waved his arms frantically.

'You didn't tell me they came down here!' hissed Rodimus.

'It slipped my mind.'

'How can it slip your mind?'

'It's your own fault, pal. Trusting me is a _bad_ idea. Especially when I haven't had any JaAm!'

Hot Shot coaxed them across the hall, all the while flicking his head back in forth in search of enemies. Rodimus followed suit until they came to a tunnel just down the hall and to their right. It was short and ended abruptly in a wide, sleek elevator that was a lot more modern and capable than anything else they'd ever seen.

'It's just there,' Hot Shot pointed vaguely down the tunnel. 'I'll hide behind you.'

The arrangement suited Rodimus just fine, as he gave his comrades a suspicious look before stepping forwards. Brawn and Ironhide flanked him on either side.

The air lit up on fire.

Rodimus's body instinctively clenched up. His spark felt like it was going to explode in his chassis. Barely able to keep his eyes open, he sought for the source of the electricity and homed in on a panel situated on the wall. Trying to move forwards was like trying to drive with his breaks on. He stumbled forwards, then – right before he felt himself beginning to loose consciousness – he drew out an arrow and threw it.

An explosion told him that he'd hit the panel. Despite the fact that every part of his body seemed to crackle, he made every effort to keep his balance. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw that Ironhide had activated his armour just in time to avoid the full blunt of the attack, while Brawn smoked, but otherwise looked unharmed.

'What the heck was that?' Ironhide asked.

'Decepticon trap,' Brawn answered. 'And it's not the only one.'

Rodimus soon saw what he meant.

Numerous red lights danced on his chassis, right above his spark.

'If you want to live, you won't move,' a clearly Decepticon voice ordered.

Rodimus's spark jumped into his throat as he realized what had happened. Cornered. Ambush. Trap.

Then it occurred to him. Someone had led them here.

Rodimus turned, but Hot Shot had vanished, as if he was just an echo of a 'bot who'd never actually been there. His immediate reaction was fury, an incentive to track down and slaughter him, who had almost certainly spelt the death warrant of his entire team. Instead, he bent down on his anger and clenched his bow.

* * *

'Wheeljack to Rodimus. Hello? Are you there or are you just ignoring me?'

Wheeljack slammed a fist on the console and when he withdrew, a visible imprint of his fist was left behind.

'Where'd they go? !' he asked rhetorically. He knew what had happened to them, which was ludicrous, because it was difficult to imagine _three_ tough and capable Autobots disappear in enemy territory. Of course, Wheeljack's mind flashed back to the war. The war that overestimated all of them.

'They must have been intercepted by Team Chaar,' Perceptor said.

Wheeljack peered out the window, out towards the asteroid where the Decepticons were based. He felt useless, but also annoyed. Rodimus and the others were out risking their lives to save Red Alert, and now they'd just been captured. Maybe if Rodimus hadn't been so adamant about the two of them remaining on the ship they could've helped. Could've detected the Decepticons sooner. Could've helped fight them off.

To him, their next step was obvious.

'C'mon, Percy,' Wheeljack marched back to the elevator. 'We're goin' down there.'

'As I recall,' Perceptor pressed, 'Rodimus Minor instructed us to preserve our own lives.'

'Rodimus Minor did not intend to get captured. We have a security team to rescue, Percy!'

'You only want to do this because you have an inclination to perform heroics.'

'That's only a small part of it. Ask yourself this. What's our alternative?'

Perceptor blinked. 'Abandon the mission and return to Cybertron.'

'And explain to Ultra Magnus why an academy valedictorian and his entire team have disappeared. Guess who'll reap the consequences?'

'We are not to blame for this unfortunate happening.'

'Perceptor, you're forgetting that not all 'bots have your logical mind. They will want to blame someone and it is easiest to blame us. It'll destroy our careers!'

'I admit you have a point, but there is still – '

Perceptor suddenly stopped.

'What is it?' Wheeljack asked.

'I am detecting a life sign,' Perceptor said.

'Autobot or Decepticon?'

'Autobot.' Again, Perceptor paused. 'It must be Hot Shot.'

Wheeljack huffed. 'I bet he sold them out…'

'The first and foremost principle of conducting research is to not jump to conclusions and avoid bias,' said Perceptor. 'If every outcome of an experiment were the product of the individual researcher's opinion, science would be…illogical. There is no evidence that Hot Shot "sold them out" to Team Chaar, so let us not assume so until we have explored all possibilities. Now, do you plan to go to the asteroid with or without me?'

'Duh.'

'Then I will have to accompany you.'

'…Really?'

'If I allowed you to proceed on your own, the results will be destructive. Someone must control you. That means _no explosive devices_.'

'Aw. Well, where do we start?'

'It is a matter of simple elimination,' Perceptor explained, standing. 'Since we are unable to directly access the outpost at this moment, we will have to start where Team Athenia began. We begin with Hot Shot.'


	14. Weaving the Net

**A/N:** Well, that took forever. And look, it's another crappy chapter. Yee hah.

Funny, in the former version of this story, I remember that this part was one of the easiest to write.

* * *

**Weaving the Net**

At first it was quiet. The landscape was unsuspecting of any danger or future excitement. The flourish of activity coming from the underground had faded, replaced only by a dull sense of disinterest. It was back to as it usually was in space: still and obsolete.

Then, in a flash of light, everything changed.

Wheeljack felt himself hit the ground with an unrelenting force, just before his footing slipped and he went tumbling down a gully. He eventually hit something solid, which he wasn't sure he was grateful for or not. In any case, when the dust settled and his vision stopped spinning, he peered upwards in time to see Perceptor step over him and drop down into a tunnel.

'You have discovered the mine,' Perceptor informed him.

His vision regained focus and he examined his surroundings. It looked as though he'd crashed right into one of the upper tunnels of the abandoned mines. The place certainly had the stench of them; not that he had been in many mines, but he could tell that was dark, gloomy, and had a high probability of being haunted. It was his kind of place. Vaguely reminded him of the places he and Perceptor used to run around in back during the war, when sometimes you had to get dirty in order to survive a routine Decepticon raid.

'Oh, don't worry 'bout me, thanks!' Wheeljack rolled back onto his feet. 'I've been in worse condition.'

'And I have always been the one to repair you.'

'They weren't _repairs_. They were _upgrades_.'

'Costly upgrades.' Perceptor checked his scanner. 'I am detecting Hot Shot's energy signature. Shall we proceed or do you desire to argue your case?'

'No, no, let's get this over with.'

Perceptor cocked the blaster he'd brought with him. 'I will lead.'

Without waiting for a response, Perceptor retreated into the tunnel, with Wheeljack closely behind him. His headlights fell upon multiple footprints beneath them, one set large enough to easily belong to Ironhide. They followed them until the prints splintered off into an adjacent tunnel, while Perceptor's scanner guided them in an entirely different direction.

It was oddly still. Wheeljack kept imagining a number of obstacles in their path, but there was nothing there except the dreamlike echoes of Cybertronians who once roamed these hallways. The footprints, themselves, hurried through the tunnel. Perceptor kept his blaster poised, while Wheeljack covered the rear and saw the path they went through vanish behind them. Fortunately they didn't go so deep that they never lost a lock on the Passage, so in all frankness they could've transported back at any time. But it felt like those old one way journeys.

This reminded him of the Great War. Wheeljack hadn't seen much action since those glory days, mainly because of his knowledge of Project Omega and other classified matters. It excited him. It rekindled those old dormant instincts that shadowed him. At the same time, it reminded him of the risks they'd taken and he silently reminded himself to be weary. This was business, not pleasure, much as he wanted it to be, and to confuse the two would have disastrous results. He'd learned that the hard way a long time ago.

Eventually they stumbled upon a series of tunnels that were obviously frequented by Hot Shot. Lights were strung up on the ceiling, providing limited but satisfactory illumination. They came to a halt when they heard faint crashing from just ahead, followed by rushed footsteps.

Thus, they heard Hot Shot before they saw him. Up ahead, Perceptor paused at a corner and outstretched his hand, stopping Wheeljack dead in his tracks. He cocked his blaster and inched forwards.

'Impossible, impossible, IMPOSSIBLE!' Hot Shot exclaimed. He was in the middle of the room, rummaging through a pile of empty jars. When he came up with nothing, he started pacing in a wide circle. 'Where is it?'

The two of them ducked back.

'So, go talk to him,' whispered Wheeljack.

'This was your idea,' stated Perceptor.

'It was _not_!'

'You are a conversationalist, Wheeljack. Logically you should be the one to go reason with him.'

'But – '

Perceptor shoved Wheeljack into plain view.

Hot Shot rounded on him. For that instant in time, everything beyond the two of them seemed to freeze. There was just him, facing this maniac who may kill him at any given time, but just as likely to embrace him as a friend. For the moment Hot Shot's expression was one of incoherence; Wheeljack got the impression that he was only vaguely aware of him and everything else, focused on something beyond the realm of what he could see.

'…Uh…hi,' Wheeljack waved. 'What's up?'

'What's up?' Hot Shot shouted. 'What's _up_? Everything's falling apart!'

'Well, I'm Wheeljack, that's Perceptor,' Wheeljack indicated who was who. 'Look, I could go into a very long explanation as to why I'm here, but I get the impression that if I do that – are you listening?'

Wheeljack physically turned Hot Shot around to face him.

'I get the impression that if I were to explain why I was here, you would neither pay attention nor care,' said Wheeljack. 'So, I'm going to have to ask you to come with us back to our ship.'

'No!' Hot Shot cackled nervously. 'No! It's wrong! No JaAm! I can hear my thoughts! I need more! There is none!' He collapsed to the ground, rocking back and forth like a traumatized and lost protoform.

Wheeljack was about to speak. Unfortunately, Hot Shot beat him to words.

'You'll help me, won't you?' A crooked smile crossed the Autobot's face. Hot Shot clawed at his leg. 'You'll help me! You'll go to Oil Slick! He'll give me more JaAm! I need JaAm! I'll go crazy if I don't have JaAm! You'll help me, right? You're nice 'bots! You'll go quietly! I'll take you to him and he'll give me JaAm! You'll help me!'

'Uh, I – '

'MORE!' Hot Shot shrieked. 'Oil Slick will give me more JaAm when he sees I have you!'

He let out a final laugh before staggering to his feet. Hot Shot leaned against a pillar of rock. He clutched at his chest, like his spark was about to explode out of his chest. Wheeljack recoiled at an energon-curling scream, a final moan of pain, and a dull thud.

Hot Shot lay on the ground, face first. Perceptor hurried into the chamber.

'…Is he offline?' asked Wheeljack.

'I am unsure,' admitted Perceptor.

'…Get closer. Can't leave him here, anyways.'

'…You may proceed ahead of me.'

'No, really. After you.'

'I insist.'

'So do I. Move it or I'll make you test my next invention.'

Perceptor contemplated this. Then, with great reluctance, he edged closer to Hot Shot's unconscious and twitching body.

It was soon clear that Hot Shot wasn't going to wake up any time soon and Perceptor and Wheeljack loomed over him, uncertain about what their next move was.

'What now?' asked Wheeljack.

'We have progressed this far,' stated Perceptor. 'Since we have apprehended Hot Shot, we should continue our original plan. There is a slight probability that he will still be of some usage.'

Wheeljack and Perceptor slung Hot Shot's unconscious body between the two of them. In a flash of light, he felt the ground sink away from their feet and they shot upwards in a flurry of sound, once more consciously leaving behind the prisoners of Team Chaar.

* * *

Wheeljack stepped into the med pay with a datapad and the distinct feeling that if he entered, ninety percent of his body was going to have to be replaced again. And he was right. When he entered, he ducked just as a fireball flew his way and left a visible burn mark on the door behind him.

Glaring, Hot Shot resumed his pacing, muttering incoherent gibberish that made Blurr sound slow.

The situation was tense. They'd come back to the Passage with an unconscious Hot Shot and Perceptor's immediate suggestion was that they imprison him, something Wheeljack had argued against and quickly won. After all, starting a professional relationship with someone by imprisoning them wasn't exactly the best strategy. Things took a turn for the worse, however, when Wheeljack realized that in every way, Perceptor had been on to something. Now, Hot Shot – agitated and visibly annoyed, who hadn't said a word to them since regaining consciousness – was pacing on the far side of the laboratory. Free of restraints. Free to do whatever he wanted.

Perceptor was standing where Wheekjack had left him, his blaster trained on Hot Shot and probably the only reason the 'bot hadn't attacked them on sight. He sighed and approached, mind his thoughts momentarily wandering to Team Athenia and the lack of time they were dedicating to actually finding them.

'How is he?' asked Wheeljack.

'Unwell,' stated Perceptor.

'Just pulled out his profile from the database,' announced Wheeljack, handing the datapad to Perceptor. 'Confirmed his identity. He's Hot Shot, alright. Pyrotech.'

'That elaborates on a few details,' Perceptor eyed the flamethrowers mounted on Hot Shot's arms.

'He's from a cluster of energon farms located on the far edge of Autobot space, out near the Nebulan Republic,' continued Wheeljack. 'Our friend here disappeared 'bout 500 stellar cycles ago while on a routine transport job between colonies. The investigators found debris on a nearby moon and assumed he'd crashed and was offlined in the explosion. Had a bit of a history, so there wasn't really anyone to ask questions and the case was closed. He was declared legally offline.'

'I suppose it is best to assume that Team Chaar abducted him,' said Perceptor, 'for casual experimentation, I imagine.'

Hot Shot abruptly cackled. 'Casual experimentation…'

The agitated expression returned and he resumed his pacing.

'The mental state we discovered him in is induced,' concluded Perceptor. 'The effects wore off rapidly. More importantly, JaAm must be an invention of Oil Slick's.'

'That'd make sense.'

'Of course it does, Wheeljack. Everything I conclude is reasonable, which is more than I can say for you.'

'Glad to hear you have confidence in me.'

'I have confidence in your…creativity.'

'That's just a nice way of sayin' I'm not scientific enough, isn't it?'

'Precisely.'

SLAM.

Wheeljack jumped. Hot Shot had just opened a nearby locker and slammed it shut. He was now searching all of the lockers nearby.

'I am not certain that recruiting Hot Shot was the best strategy,' admitted Perceptor. 'I had been anticipating that he would be coherent.'

'How do you know he isn't coherent?'

'Does he seem coherent to you?'

'Only one way to find out,' shrugged Wheeljack. 'Hey, Hothead!'

Hot Shot froze and slowly focused his optics on them.

'Got something I want to show you,' he said.

Wheeljack held up a cylinder canister. A JaAm jar. Hot Shot screamed and scrambled backwards, pressing himself against the opposite wall.

'Relax, it's empty!' laughed Wheeljack, turning it upside down to prove his point.

'Does it matter? !' Hot Shot hollered. He pointed at the canister dramatically, as if it had wronged him in some horrible way. 'That's JaAm! It's the embodiment of _evil_!'

'It can't be that – '

Hot Shot glowered.

'Well, it's – uh…okay. It's evil. Fair enough.'

'You don't have any more of it lying around, do you?' Hot Shot demanded. He began to circle the med bay, checking in random drawers.

'No,' said Wheeljack.

'Oh, and just to let you know, I _hate_ doctors. So don't come near me or you'll loose a few vital body parts.'

'I'm a scientist, not a doctor.'

Hot Shot didn't look entirely convinced, but had completed his inspection of the med bay and was now just pacing, rubbing his servos. He seemed to be at a loss of what to do next.

'Okay,' Hot Shot rubbed his head. He pointed at his surroundings. 'Okay, let me just make sure I got this right. _This_ is an Autobot ship?'

'Yup. You're on board the Sojourner's Passage, near Team Chaar's base. We found you on the asteroid. Well, _we_ didn't find you first, technically. Never mind.'

Wheeljack proceeded to explain the _very complicated_ reason they were here. In all of the excitement he'd almost forgotten that they were really here to rescue Red Alert. He summarized how Red Alert had been kidnapped, then how they'd recruited Team Athenia to help them. Hot Shot only seemed to take in a small portion of this; maybe it was just the after effects of the JaAm, but he continuously circled the room and stopped several times, as if he'd suddenly forgotten where he was and how he'd gotten there. He had to repeat parts of the story several times before he was convinced that Hot Shot was fully informed of the situation.

'Okay,' Hot Shot said after he was done. 'You got some 'bots missing.'

'Yeah,' nodded Wheeljack.

'Kidnapped by Team Chaar.'

'That's right.'

'And you caught _me_ because you thought I would help you?'

'Pretty much.'

Hot Shot gawked at him. Then he started laughing.

'You seriously thought I'd help you guys? !' Hot Shot laughed. 'Do I look reliable to you?'

'Well – '

'And do you even know who Team Chaar _is_? ! Do you realize what they do to prisoners? !'

'I got an idea and it's not pretty.'

'Well, whatever horrible fantasy you can come up with, it's about ten times worse. I've been trying to get off that stupid asteroid for years! I'm trying to get _away_ from them and you think I'm going to go _waltzing_ into their base, _stare_ them in the optic, and ask nicely if I can have those Autobots? ! I don't think so!'

'Look, we went through a lot of trouble to get you and we probably shouldn't have in the first place. Whether you like it or not, you _are_ helping us!'

'Yeah, sure.'

'…But if being's a prisoner so bad, you can help us save them from whatever you went through!'

'I'm not going back there,' affirmed Hot Shot. 'A long, _long_ time ago – just after I was first brought here – I escaped and I went back to help some Autobots I'd left behind. Long story short, that was a big mistake. I'm not going through that again.'

Wheeljack sighed. 'I'm sympathetic, really – '

'We cannot risk allowing Team Chaar to remain in custody of these Autobots,' Perceptor raised his voice. 'Security is at stake.'

'I don't care,' snapped Hot Shot.

Wheeljack guided Perceptor aside. 'Let me take care of this, alight?' He turned back to Hot Shot. 'You actually know one of the kidnapped Autobots. You remember a guy named Rodimus Minor at all?'

'Who?'

'Rodimus.'

Hot Shot strained. 'Not really.'

'It would've been just in this last stellar cycle. About so high, kind of reddish, bow and arrow?...Acts like he knows everything?'

Hot Shot considered this. 'Oh, him? You're telling me that glitch got caught by Team Chaar?'

'Yup.'

'…Good riddance.'

'Hey!'

'Why take away the fun?' asked Hot Shot. 'Let him escape on his own.'

Perceptor sidled into the picture.

'This is not progressing,' Perceptor hissed. 'Allow me to access his memory banks and we may still obtain usable information.'

'Hang on, I got a back-up plan,' Wheeljack whispered.

'Oh?'

'Yup. Bargaining.' Wheeljack stepped forwards. 'Hot Shot, I could just maroon you back on the asteroid and leave you here to rot. But if you help us, I might consider not doin' that.'

'…What do you mean?' Hot Shot asked hesitantly. 'You mean you'd get me off of here? No strings attached?'

'One ticket back to Autobot space. What you do from there is your business.'

'…Where in Autobot space? Not Cybertron, right?'

'I suspect we'll be going straight back to Athenia.'

'And that's…where?'

'Obscure colony on the Galactic Rim.'

'Hm.'

'There's a catch, though. You have to help us get our guys back.'

'And if I refuse you'll throw me back to Team Chaar?'

'Ah, _now_ you're getting it. You convinced?'

'When do we start?'

Wheeljack turned on his heel. He winked at Perceptor as he passed. 'Right away.'


	15. Team Athenia

**Team Athenia**

Rodimus wasn't sure what was worse: the fact that they'd gotten captured, the fact that they couldn't seem to find a way to escape, or the fact that the Decepticons were taking their sweet time deciding what to do with them. He'd heard his fair share of horror stories; mostly urban legends that – through the process of time and some degree of exaggeration – had been woven into intricate tales of survival, death, and severe post-traumatic stress disorder. Well, they were all wrong. Because being a captive was the most anticlimactic experience he'd ever had.

Forced to surrender at gunpoint by the illustrious Team Chaar, Rodimus, Ironhide, and Brawn had been marched into the depths of their base and thrown into a laboratory of some sort converted into a cell. Some sort of cylindrical power core was situated in the center of the room, surrounded by holographic computer consoles that provided no further elaboration on means of escape. The door was open. Truly, the only thing that was keeping them in was one _very_ determined energy barrier.

Rodimus retracted his servo as a spark shocked his systems momentarily. He shook out the numbness. How had he landed this job, again? He couldn't remember. The point was that he was less an engineer than he was a follower. In front of him was a circuit board that didn't make sense and no matter how hard he stared at it, he couldn't seem to make sense at this; so the only thing he was capable of doing at this point was stare even harder and hope that by some sort of miracle he'd recall the mandatory engineering classes he'd received back at the academy. Ironhide was hovering over his shoulder, as if to offer some sort of support when in truth he was just in the way. Brawn was standing vigilant at the door, keeping a sharp audio receptor out for any approaching Decepticons.

'Got it yet?' Brawn asked. He said it in a tone that betrayed that he was just asking this to annoy him.

'Is the field down?' Rodimus retaliated.

'No.'

'Then what do you think?'

A shudder rocked the floor. Rodimus froze.

'…Did you feel that?' he asked.

'Yup,' said Brawn.

'What do you think it was?'

'Does it matter?'

'It could.'

'It doesn't. Get back to work.'

Rodimus tried not to be peeved at being told what to do, mainly because he was telling himself the same thing. He turned back to the circuit board he presumed hooked up to the energy field. Ironhide hovered over his shoulder.

'Do you know what yer doin'?' Ironhide asked.

'Of course I do,' Rodimus denied.

'You sure? Cause it looks to me like – '

'Look, maybe I didn't exactly pass the basic engineering class back at the academy, but I _think_ I retained enough information to get us out of here,' said Rodimus. 'Tell you what, instead of hovering over my shoulder and distracting me, why don't you keep guard with Brawn?'

'But don't you think that – '

'Take a hint. _Go away_.'

Ironhide shrugged and backed off.

'I should've just busted through this thing…' muttered Brawn.

'We tried that, Brawn. You got electrocuted. We all agreed that that wasn't exactly the best option, unless you enjoy having billions of volts of energy frying your circuits.'

'…Maybe _you_ should try it.'

'Hey, both of you cool down!' intervened Ironhide. 'C'mon, we'll find a way out.'

Rodimus shook his head and stood up. 'Not this way, we aren't. We're going to have to come up with something else. Suggestions?'

'Hold that thought, Hot Rod,' hissed Brawn. 'Someone's coming.'

Rodimus gestured for Brawn and Ironhide to position themselves on either side of the cell, just out of immediate sight. He, himself, put a servo on the bow, ready to attack even though a barrier effectively separated him from any enemy that may appear on the other side. He heard the light footsteps scurrying across, in an obvious rush. Oil Slick probably couldn't wait to get his servos on this new batch of prisoners. But they hadn't counted of them.

Two Cybertronians skidded into view.

Both of them were Autobots.

'…Wheeljack?' Rodimus blinked.

'Well, finally!' Wheeljack laughed nervously. 'I thought we'd never find you!'

'That is contrary to what you were just telling me,' Perceptor stated.

'Shut up, Perceptor.'

'How did you get in here?' demanded Rodimus. 'I was on the verge of coming up with an ingenious plan to free us, by the way.'

'We will explain later,' Perceptor said. 'Wheeljack?'

'I can get you out,' said Wheeljack. 'In three…two…one.'

The cell suddenly went dark.

'What was that about?' Rodimus asked.

'Managed to get to their power generator when he broke in,' explained Wheeljack. 'Better hurry. It'll throw the 'cons off for a while, but they'll figure out something's up real fast.'

'What took you so long?'

'We…had a close call with Cyclonus,' said Wheeljack. 'Yeah, we transported here right from the ship. Or, just outside. Kinda had to break down a wall and all. This's actually a nice place, if it weren't so creepy it could be kinda homey.'

'Where's the Passage?' inquired Rodimus.

'And before that, we had to come up with an alternating shield frequency so that the ship wasn't immediately detected,' continued Wheeljack. 'Of course, when we were doing that, Perceptor thought up of a solution straight away and took all the fun out of _finding_ it.'

'Uh, _excuse me_? What'd you two do with my ship?'

'What is the purpose of delaying finding a solution if I already know it?' Perceptor asked. 'It is an unproductive use of time.'

'But _Percy_!' whined Wheeljack. 'If you already have the answer to a problem, it takes the fun out of _finding_ it!'

'Science is not intended to be fun.'

'What'd you do with my ship?' Rodimus intervened.

'Don't worry,' Wheeljack slapped Rodimus on the shoulder. 'Your ship is safe and sound. I can't tell you where it is…but it's safe and sound.'

'…You blew it up, didn't you?'

'Of course I didn't.'

'Then where is it?'

'It's fine, Rod, just _chill_…the paint just got a little chipped…'

'"Chipped?"'

'Relax, I'm just messin' with you. Once you see the dents and realize that the damage isn't so bad – '

'"_Dents_?"'

'Oh, uh, I guess I shouldn't've said that.'

'I'm sorry to interrupt this important conversation,' Brawn intervened. 'But don't we have to be getting somewhere?'

'Not yet,' Rodimus said. 'We still have to find Red Alert.'

'Where would she be?' inquired Ironhide.

'I think I know,' a new voice piped up.

Perceptor looked over his shoulder and instantly Rodimus's fuel tank crawled. It was Hot Shot, grinning sheepishly and standing behind Wheeljack for extra protection.

'What is _he_ doing here?' Rodimus demanded.

'Never mind what he's doing here!' Brawn cracked his metal knuckles. 'Move aside an' lemme hit him!'

'He's on our side,' Wheeljack explained. 'He's the only 'bot who knows his way around here; he helped us get in.'

Rodimus glared at Hot Shot, who averted his gaze, looking guilty.

'…Fine, I don't have time to argue,' Rodimus snarled. 'But one false move from you and I'll shoot. Clear?'

Hot Shot nodded.

'We have to get to Red Alert,' said Rodimus. 'Any idea where she'd be?'

'Oil Slick's lab,' Hot Shot replied without hesitation. 'It's where he keeps all of them.'

'Then that's where I need to be. Brawn, Ironhide, I want you to distract Team Chaar for as long as possible. Perceptor and Wheeljack, you find a way to disable their systems; make things hard for the 'cons.'

'What about me?' asked Hot Shot.

There was an uncertain pause.

'Take him with you, Rodimus,' suggested Perceptor. 'He will be a valuable asset to locating Red Alert.'

Rodimus frowned, uncertain and hesitant, but after a minor internal debate he realized he didn't have much of a choice. He nodded at Hot Shot and the group disbanded in their respective pairs.

* * *

A distant rumbling told Rodimus that Team Chaar had stirred, like vicious alien creatures awakening from a long slumber. He'd already gotten the com. message from Brawn announcing that they'd engaged the team, although Oil Slick was conveniently present. What stuck with him was the ever-present fear that someone wasn't going to get out of this alive.

He hurried after Hot Shot as the facility shook around them. Just ahead, the wall exploded and Blackout flew past them. Hot Shot ducked underneath him in time, while Rodimus jumped over and continued to run. Despite all instinct telling him to turn and fight, he had to focus only on his missing team mate. In the process they passed through a multitude of rooms, including what appeared to be a common room, living quarters, and a bare laboratory that obviously had once served a purpose. Hot Shot then descended down a ladder and into an enormous, dome-shaped room. Here Rodimus paused. It was dark. That meant there could be an enemy or a trap lurking in any quarter.

By the time Rodimus hit the bottom his optics had adjusted to the dim light. It appeared to him to be some sort of control center. There was a large desk taking up most of the space in the center and the exit on the other side, where Hot Shot was ascending to.

Hot Shot was already investigating the hall, creeping along and obviously preparing himself for some sort of fight. He stopped entirely.

'Is this it?' asked Rodimus.

'This is it,' Hot Shot gestured to a nearby door. He attempted to open it. 'He's locked us out.'

'Can you break in?'

'Please, Rod. I've snuck in here more times than I can remember. Do you think I could go all that time without learning a thing or two about breaking open a door? Stand back.'

Rodimus braced himself, drawing arrows to his bow. Hot Shot didn't take long to open it.

There they were. Both of them were framed by ominous lime green circles covering the entirety of the back wall. Red Alert was in the center of the room, illuminated by discs of gold light that seemed to surround her, a force field that prevented her from moving. Oil Slick stood before her.

Rodimus set his sights on the Decepticon

Before Hot Shot could react, Rodimus had lunged forwards and punched Oil Slick on the helmet as the Decepticon turned. Oil Slick stumbled, but wasn't down. Rodimus didn't give up. He launched himself at the 'con and started to hit him, over and over again, not giving his opponent any time to react. Out o the corner of his optic, he saw Hot Shot creep over to the control panel and make an attempt to bring the field down.

'I need a code,' said Hot Shot.

'Can't you just use force?' asked Rodimus.

Oil Slick brandished a chain that swung around and went flying towards Rodimus. Rodimus snatched it out mid air and tugged. Oil Slick stumbled forwards. He wrenched it out of the 'con's servos. In a final swoop, the chain flew in a wide circle. Seemingly in slow motion it collided with Oil Slick's helmet and it shattered into a million pieces, glass and putrid green liquid escaping from its imprisonment. The Decepticon choked, spluttered, and then crumpled to the ground.

He couldn't take his optics off of Oil Slick. This creature, who had tormented, mocked, and humiliated victims, now lay dying on the floor of the laboratory where he had conducted his experiments. Rodimus felt something he didn't expect. An overwhelming desire to kill Oil Slick.

'Well, if we took her out without disabling the field, we'd have your doctor back,' said Hot Shot, 'except that she'd kinda be in two halves.'

Rodimus bent down and grabbed Oil Slick from underneath the chin, lifting the 'con up so he could look him in the face.

'You got two choices,' Rodimus snarled. 'Either I can kill you now or you can let her out and _then_ I'll kill you. Which will it be?'

Oil Slick didn't respond.

Rodimus dragged Oil Slick over to the console and threw him down on front of it. He drew his arrow and directed two shots at him.

'Release her,' Rodimus demanded. '_Now_.'

On all fours, Oil Slick glared up at them. Slowly – and deliberately – he reached over to the controls and began to type in a code. He paused.

He hit a button.

An alarm sounded overhead. The laboratory flooded with red light. The two Autobots swung to face the door just in time to see a reinforced steal door slam down in front of it, effectively sealing them in. A flurry of activity followed; Oil Slick stood, then fell back down again as two arrows penetrated his head. The field surrounding Red Alert intensified, until Rodimus felt great pressure building up all around his chassis.

'He set the field to overload!' Hot Shot shouted over the alarm.

'How do we stop it?' asked Rodimus.

'Do I look like I know? An explosion created by that thing will fry everything in this room!'

The entire room trembled violently. The heat intensified. Red Alert was now enveloped in a demonic red glow humming a song of their imminent demise. Instinctively the two Autobots backed as far away from it as possible. He and Hot Shot exchanged hopeless expressions, knowing that their fates now rested in the servos of Primus, itself, and maybe a bit of luck.

And just like that, another blow. In the midst of the glow Rodimus managed to fix on Red Alert's limp shell in the center of the field. The cuffs above her head released. A hole in the floor opened. Then she fell. All their progress, their ultimate goal, suddenly disappeared into a gaping hole at the bottom of her cell that swallowed her up. Rodimus intended to dive forwards, the only thing holding him back being Hot Shot.

The computer decided that this was a good time to count down until the time when they were offlined. Rodimus's mind raced to try to find a way out.

'_Three…two…_'

The lights cut out. Rodimus froze in anticipation of sheering pain. But there was nothing.

Rodimus chanced flickering open his optics. The burning light from the energy field had died down and disappeared altogether.

He made eye contact with Hot Shot. In an instant they both breathed a sigh of relief and slid down the wall too the floor.

'Next time I try to be civil to a Decepticon, please stop me,' Rodimus requested.

'No problem,' Hot Shot got to his feet. 'Quick, there still a chance your doctor's alive.'

'What? !' Rodimus followed suit. 'Are you sure?'

'There's a chamber underneath here where all the garbage collects before it gets dropped into the incinerator,' explained Hot Shot. 'With any luck she's down there.'

'How will we get out?'

'There's a tunnel that leads right out of here. Hurry!'

Hot Shot rushed to a corner of the room he obviously knew well and, before Rodimus could register what was there that was so fascinating, he'd slipped head first into a chute and disappeared. He pried open the chute, himself, and sighed. This reminded him of the times he'd snuck out of the academy. Then he dived in himself.

Rodimus tried not to be too ill at the sight of the charred Autobot shells littering the interior of the disposal unit. Just as he felt the silence filling him up, a sharp snap announced that not all was lifeless. A robotic arm was busying itself with picking up piles of garbage and stuffing them down another chute he assumed led directly to the incinerator. Other objects it picked up and tossed down a separate chute. Primus knows where that went, but Rodimus wasn't particularly keen on investigating.

'This way.'

Hot Shot's voice reverberated off the walls so powerfully that Rodimus momentarily feared that Oil Slick – no doubt in the room just above them – had heard it. But aside from the light trembling he attributed to the fight Team Chaar and the other Autobots were having, it was completely still. Almost methodically tranquil.

At the bottom of the pile they split up and started scouring the area for signs of Red Alert, with Rodimus keeping care to step over the disfigured body parts that he wasn't even sure he recognized. Hoping that he wouldn't recognize anything. He orbited the entirety of the room but didn't see any sign of her until he met Hot Shot at the far end. Hot Shot shrugged at him to show he hadn't seen anything of relevance. Together they crossed to a secluded corner to examine the remnants of the Autobots, silently preying that some sign of the living was amongst the shells. He didn't see her until he lifted a pile of scrap out of the way.

There she was. Slowly being dragged across the floor by a massive, grasping pincher that had taken her by the arm. She was heading towards a hole in the corner of the room that emanated an ominous fiery glow.

They dived forwards at the exact time. Rodimus, grabbing hold of her ankle. Hot Shot, going after the arm dragging her towards her death. The joints were so degraded that Hot Shot easily broke it in half with sheer strength. The arm went limp. It still pinched Red Alert's arm tightly in between its claws, unbending and unwilling to move. For a moment they were frozen in their respective positions, waiting for something else to go horribly wrong.

Nothing did.

'…Can we get out of here, now?' Hot Shot asked.

Red Alert was in a semi-conscious state, her optics shuddering on and off. Clearly the metal arm encompassing her left servo wasn't willing to let go of it anytime soon, while the right dangled lifelessly. Hot Shot braced himself and reached up to try and free her servo.

'R.A.?' Rodimus urged. 'R.A., can you hear me?'

'Vaguely,' Red Alert groaned. Her free servo reached up to rub her head.

'Do you remember what happened?' Rodimus inquired.

'Most of it,' replied Red Alert, her voice more coherent, precise, and regaining that condescending tone he'd somehow missed during her absence. '…What are _you_ doing here?'

'Rescuing you, of course,' Rodimus laughed. 'I'm just relieved to find you online. We would've considered ourselves lucky if we'd found your shell! How are we doing?'

Just as Rodimus said this, Hot Shot managed to pry open the arm and he dragged Red Alert out of reach. She crouched forwards, her head low.

'_Perceptor to Rodimus_.' A comm. link opened.

'Go ahead,' Rodimus answered.

'_Brawn and Ironhide are having difficulty restraining Team Chaar._'

'Understood,' Rodimus said. 'Get Wheeljack to overload the generator so it will destroy the facility. With luck that will distract the 'cons long enough for us to get out of here. When you're done head on back to the ship and prepare to take off. If we're not there in fifteen cycles, leave without us.'

'_And Red Alert_?'

'We got her.'

'_Acknowledged. Perceptor out_.'

'Perceptor's here?' breathed Red Alert.

'Yes,' nodded Rodimus. 'Him and Wheeljack.'

'Is the Elite Guard here?'

'Ah – not really. We'll explain later.'

Red Alert staggered to her feet with their help. In a tight group, Hot Shot led them to a narrow, roughly carved out tunnel nearby that had obviously seen a lot of use. The entire room shook violently. The alarm grew louder and louder, deafening any coherent thought Rodimus had.

The moment they entered the hall, an explosion from behind him rattled the facility. Just as Rodimus turned he saw the roof buckle and then collapse in on itself. Blaster fire shot just over their head, streaks of light that marked the path they intended to take. Rodimus ushered the others to go on ahead, drew his bow, and aimed.

Cyclonus. He stood at the edge of the newly-constructed ditch, staring right at them. Rodimus's arrows hit his drawn sword and pinned it against the opposite wall, distracting him long enough for him to make a run for it. The only assurance he had was that the alarm _might_ dissuade Cyclonus from wasting time pursuing him. He charged after the other two, who were already turning the next corner and heading for the front entrance. Two more shots flew past him. Rodimus shot again. That's when it hit. The force of the shot threw him right onto his back, but he was up within nanokliks, barely feeling any pain that would've normally fried his circuits.

'What are you doing? !' he vaguely heard Strika's voice yelled; only her voice was capable of reaching above the alarm. 'Forget them! Retrieve Oil Slick and get to the ship!'

Rodimus didn't stick around to hear Cyclonus's response. He turned and ran for it.

The tunnel wound deep into the rock. He got stuck once or twice and had to sidle sideways, while up ahead he saw a beam of fitful light painting the exit. Despite this, pebbles of rock rained down on his helmet and all he could seem to think about was the intense sensation that this tunnel would collapse at any moment. That he could feel everything starting to close on him. Suddenly the exit seemed so far away, so out of reach.

He burst out into open space.

His footsteps were closely followed by a cloud of hot dust. Rodimus spotted Hot Shot and Red Alert, having collapsed at the bottom of the slop. As he hurried up to them he tried to open a comm. link only to find the signal breaking up.

A beam of light shone on them from above. It was the Sojourner's Passage. It hovered above them like some beacon of light, focusing on their signals. Rodimus felt himself suddenly get picked up off the ground, with Hot Shot and Red Alert caught up in the torrent with them. When he stopped he heard several voices talking over one another. He stumbled. Suddenly it wasn't unbearably hot but chilled and frantic.

He stumbled forwards. It was the bridge of the Passage he knew so well.

'Got 'em!' Wheeljack exclaimed. He hurried up to them and helped Red Alert to her feet. 'Hit it, Percy!'

Perceptor was at the comm. station. Still confused and disoriented from their sudden journey from the asteroid to the ship, Rodimus grabbed hold of the nearest railing. The ship swung around and started off, but through a nearby monitor he could see Team Chaar's asteroid.

The last Rodimus saw of it, he saw the buildings crack in half and the asteroid tilt precariously. Then a ripple of fire flew throughout space, momentarily throwing the ship off balance, but not enough to cause any alarm. Several mushroom clouds of fire flew out into the vacuum of space and were quickly erased from existence. Meanwhile, on the far side, he spotted a Decepticon ship escape the blast in time just before his vision was taken over by sheer white light.

'Good riddance,' Hot Shot said, breaking the tense silence.

Rodimus couldn't have put it better himself.


	16. Vote For Rodimus

**Vote for Rodimus**

For the first time in a long time, when Rodimus woke up first thing in the morning and heard nothing but the gentle buzz of the television in the next room, he wasn't filled with a sense of dread. No, for the first time, he woke up and almost looked forwards to seeing what the team was up to.

'Give me the REMOTE!' a muffled voice shouted – it sounded like Brawn.

'I went centuries without TV! I deserve to choose!' That was Hot Shot.

CRASH.

'Ow. That hurt.'

Rodimus lay back and stared at the ceiling, unsure whether it was worth trying to resolve the situation or not. They rarely listened to him when it came to this sort of thing. Additionally, they were _extremely_ unsympathetic to his predicament.

Rodimus faced a formal reprimand from his superiors, though thankfully because they'd actually _saved_ R.A. they'd decided not to discharge him and he was allowed to keep his command. That was on account of Kup, who had done some work behind the scenes, and then sent Rodimus a charming message telling him how he was going to throw his former pupil into the Pits if he wasn't more careful in the future. Rodimus had replied saying he wasn't going to make any promises. After all, he should be getting a slagging medal for all the risks he took.

Hot Shot was hanging around. Nobody had asked him to stay, but nobody had asked him to leave either, and Rodimus felt guilty every time he considered trying to usher Hot Shot out the door permanently. Besides, there was something about that haphazard charisma he liked. Though he had the tendency to disappear during night time hours, he showed up again to catch the early show and listen to distasteful music at an ungodly time of the morning. Then, while the team went about their usual duties, Hot Shot tagged along and asked seemingly irrelevant questions. The first few days Hot Shot had done this, Rodimus had quite honestly just wanted him to go away and give them their privacy. But still Hot Shot stayed, like one might keep a pet.

The adventure was over and the team was back on Athenia, at that point when it was time to stop resting and get back to normal, whatever their new normal would be. He decided what he was going to do today. He wanted to convince the engineering crew that huddled in the basement to repair the old turrets situated on Athenia, long since falling apart from lack of use. Then he'd have to hover around his computer for the rest of the day and wait for word on his reprimand. There was all the paperwork that had stacked up while he was away; he swore that Autobots just sent it to him in order to punish him for being heroic.

Someone knocked on his door. More like pounded. Rodimus quickly got to his feet and went to answer it.

The moment he entered, Rodimus came face-to-face with what appeared to be the wall. He quickly realized that it wasn't a wall. It was Springer.

'What?' Rodimus asked, a little too sharply.

'Hothead and Brawn are killing each other,' Springer said flatly.

'So?'

'Shouldn't you stop them?'

'Why don't _you_ stop them?'

'I dunno, since you're in charge an' all…'

Rodimus stared at him carefully. 'This was just an excuse to disturb me, wasn't it?'

'Darn straight.'

That said, Springer backed off and disappeared down the hall, the floor vibrating with each footstep.

Rodimus sighed and leaned against the doorframe. No scars. No difference. No sign that it had ever happened.

Springer was perhaps the most perplexing dynamic of this new arrangement, simply in that he'd survived getting shot in the face, though Rodimus was fairly certain he'd seen a lot worse. What was perplexing about it was that _he'd_ done it. _He_ had willingly raised a blaster and shot Springer with his own weapon and he didn't seem to care. Rodimus had been expecting screams, emotional outbursts, and quite a bit of cursing – but that hadn't happened. Instead, when the Passage had docked at Athenia, Springer was there, ready to greet them. And very annoyed that they'd gone on a dangerous rescue mission without him.

He'd only come out of stasis the day they returned. Against the doctor's advice, he'd stormed out of the medical ward, refused treatment, and waited at the docking port. Calmly and patiently. Those were two adjectives Rodimus thought would have never been used to describe Springer. Regardless, he went on as though nothing had happened; he'd even made friends with Hot Shot, first grilling him for information about Team Chaar and then partnering up with him on patrol.

As Rodimus breezed by the common room, he briefly glimpsed Hot Shot and Brawn fighting each other while Springer looked on. Red Alert was in her laboratory, back to the door and as solitary as ever. He slipped into his office before anyone could comment on his emergence and was immediately faced with the pile of paperwork. He would've thought that someone would bother to try and organize this.

'_Hubcap to Rodimus. Hey, you better answer me this time_!'

Rodimus sat at his desk, leaned back, and put his feet on his desk.

'If this is about the interview – '

'_Relax, I decided to abandon that endeavour. Even though everyone is _dying_ to know what happened in 'con territory and I should probably warn you that you might see a surge of reporters trying to get some sort of scoop. Worst case scenario you attract some bounty hunter who wants the 411 on Chaar._'

'What do you want, Hubcap?'

'_Well, it's not really what I want. While you were out killing Decepticons or whatever, some guy left an important message for you. Said that if I didn't make sure you got it he'd have me arrested or something thereof._'

'Aren't the communication satellites working?'

'_With something this exciting, I had to be the one to tell you myself_.'

'Okay, what is it?'

'_A repair crew that disappeared. I think you'd remember them; they were just here a few weeks ago._'

'Right.'

Rodimus struggled to recall some memory of the encounter. He conjured up an image of the team's Prime, remembering how he, his ship, and his disobedient subordinates had stopped at Athenia to refuel. Two of his subordinates had gotten into a fight with some of the locals and it had taken the Prime and Rodimus combined in order to break it up. Truthfully that was the only time he'd interacted with him and the team left Athenia shortly thereafter.

'They disappeared?'

'_Yup and those guys from Intel just want to know if you know anything. It's pretty standard, to be honest. The rumours are a lot more exciting_.'

There was a distinctive pause on the other end. Rodimus inwardly groaned. He knew what was coming.

'_Wanna hear them_?'

'Sure,' Rodimus replied, disinterested.

'_Well, after that crew left here, they gallivanted off to wherever they were needed and they found something, some "precious cargo" or whatever. And after they found this cargo, they were intercepted by a Decepticon war ship. A real live war ship! Then there was this whole battle and everything, then everyone just kind of disappeared and the scans only showed debris from the Decepticon ship in the area, but no sign of the Autobots. They just _vanished_. Now, Intel's acting real cool about it; their representatives say they're lookin' into it – but the thing is, if it's just a case of an Autobot running into a Decepticon "scout" ship, why all the fuss? The region's been isolated by intel, there's security, there's Elite Guard patrol ships, and the top scientists have been called out to investigate the readings._'

Rodimus vaguely recalled how Perceptor and Wheeljack had left in an enormous hurry without saying why they were so anxious to leave.

'_Now, 'bots in my business are talking about what the cargo was, because whatever it was, the 'cons sacrificed one of their warships to get it._'

'It's just a bunch of rumours,' said Rodimus.

'_Yes. A bunch of rumours that happen to be cold, hard fact. Trust me on this, Hawkeye, something's going down_.'

'Hubcap, I'm not interested in your conspiracy theories. However the repair crew disappeared, I'm sure that the real explanation is very boring…like they drove into a star or something.'

'_Spark, are you unimaginative or what? It's true, I tell you! It's – _'

'Goodbye, Hubcap.' Rodimus cut the comm. link.

Seconds later, the message that had come in while they were away appeared on his computer. He read over it twice, barely taking in the words in the process. Vaguely he thought back to a few months ago when Blurr had come to Athenia, his presence confirming that Decepticon activity was increasing, and wondered if this incident had any connection. But the official inquiry, itself, was limited to a few sparse details.

Maybe he should talk to Red Alert about this.

Before Rodimus could talk himself out of it, he was on his feet and cut through the common room straight to Red Alert's laboratory. He peered in to find that Hot Shot was sitting near Red Alert, leaning against the desk and staring at her with intent curiosity as she fiddled around with some chemical vials.

'Stop watching me,' Red Alert directed.

'Why?' Hot Shot asked.

'Because it's disruptive.'

'It's not like I'm talkin' or anything.'

'Your mere existence is disruptive. _Go away_.'

'Hey, R.A.,' Rodimus came up on the other side, effectively breaking up any pending argument.

'Why is it just when I have something important to do everyone feels the need to interrupt?' asked Red Alert.

'Is that a rhetorical question?'

'_Very_ rhetorical. Is this important?'

'I don't know yet.'

She sighed. 'Okay, what is it?'

'I got this message from Cybertron Intelligence.'

Red Alert took the datapad in his servos without asking and reviewed it. When she was done reading, Rodimus briefly related the string of rumours Hubcap had told him about, taking care not to leave the part out about the cargo the ship had supposedly been carrying. The whole time she wore an expression he'd come to know too well in the brief time they'd known each other: one of indignant disinterest that screamed "you are wrong."

'It's a rumour,' Red Alert said.

'What if it's true?' Rodimus asked.

'It's a rumour,' repeated Red Alert. 'I thought we all agreed that listening to Hubcap was a very bad idea.'

'I thought he was kinda cool,' Hot Shot interrupted.

'Case in point,' she said. 'You are the embodiment of bad ideas.'

'Wheeljack and Perceptor left in kind of a hurry, don't you think?' pressed Rodimus.

'They're already behind on a few projects simply because they decided that my life exceeded the importance of developing weapons, medical techniques, and other tasks that may prove vital for the future of our race.'

'Are you saying you didn't want to be rescued?'

'Of course I wanted to be rescued, just not by them. They have other things that they need to do; they should've left it up to the professionals.'

Rodimus wasn't exactly in the mood to argue how the "professionals" had favoured abandoning her. 'Let me put it this way. What if it _is_ true?'

'But – '

'Hypothetically speaking.'

'…Very well, if it _is_ true, it's none of our business.'

'What'cha talkin' about?' Ironhide abruptly appeared in the doorway, shadowed by Springer and Brawn.

Rodimus told what had happened as best he could, while Red Alert massaged her temples. No doubt battling a new processor ache.

'Oh,' Springer leaned forwards. 'So what was the cargo?'

'I don't know,' admitted Rodimus. 'Hubcap seemed to think that it could turn the tide.'

'A weapon?' Brawn theorized.

'It could've been protoforms.'

Everyone looked to Red Alert.

'The main reason they're going extinct is because they don't have access to that type of technology,' said Red Alert. 'If they obtained it, it would allow them to build a new army and swarm the Autobots with sheer numbers. That is far more valuable than any weapons or resources. In any case, I don't see the purpose in forming theories about it, since it isn't our responsibility.'

She handed the datapad back to Rodimus.

'I suggest you reply to that and tell them what you know. And _don't_ go grilling them for information.'

'No, of course not,' said Rodimus. '…I'll get Springer to do that later. Right, Springer?'

He turned, expecting to see Springer laugh and nod knowingly, but he'd suddenly vacated the scene.

'Well, he left in a rush,' stated Rodimus. 'What's his malfunction?'

'He doesn't have a malfunction,' Brawn rolled his eyes. 'He just knows better than to listen to you. Hey, Rodimus, you know Kup, right?'

'Kup?' broke in Hot Shot. '_The_ Kup? You're tellin' me you know the war hero _Kup_, who took down four platoons of Decepticon heavies by himself _and_ fought Straxus in the last battle?'

'Yeah, why?' Rodimus asked.

'Wow. Can you get me his autograph?'

'Not unless I want to get a shot to the head,' said Rodimus. 'What're you getting at, Brawn?'

'Well, he's high up on the hierarchy,' said Brawn. 'Maybe you can get some info out of him.'

'Now, if I was serious about getting a shot to a head that would do it.'

'It wouldn't hurt to talk to him.'

'Did you hear anything I just said?'

'Just _try_!'

'…Alright, if you insist,' agreed Rodimus. 'But I don't make any promises and I'll make it clear that it was your idea.'

'Come on, he isn't that bad,' Red Alert intervened. 'I spoke to him on quite a few occasions and I found him to be rather cultured, considering his reputation.'

'Do you have a crush on him?' Hot Shot asked rather loudly.

'What – no! Did I give you that impression? Because you're wrong about that. Just like you're wrong about everything else.'

'Ouch,' Hot Shot grimaced. 'Tell me, are you always this charming?'

'No.'

'Too bad. I wish you had a personality to match your…your…'

Hot Shot trialed off when he noticed Red Alert's firm and annoyed expression.

'I didn't say anything; absolutely nothing,' Hot Shot slunk away into the common room.

This effectively broke up the conversation and the team disbanded into their respective activities. With any luck it was just another random story, but as far as stories went, Rodimus was finding that a lot of them were proving to be more than just fables told in the dead of night.

The screen went blank and in an instant, his office was suddenly quiet and still. Well, it wasn't the first time Kup had hung up on him.

Rodimus leaned back and put his feet on the table. All that pleasant conversation had gotten him was a headache and put him behind on his paperwork. It was already the middle of the night. Everyone had returned to their headquarters to recharge, with the exception of Red Alert, who he heard working in the laboratory next door. As for Springer, he'd mysteriously disappeared after his usual patrol route and hadn't come back.

He had a feeling that if he intended to get this paperwork done before his superiors sent him a threat message, he'd have to pull an all-nighter. Of course, his team hadn't made anything easier with their frequent interruptions, mostly to complain about something, like the cable was out, or Hot Shot was annoying them, or they were bored, or a topic equally irrelevant. They were acting like protoforms and Rodimus felt like telling them to try and do his job and see how they felt after piles of paperwork. After all, the entire team had technically disobeyed orders and Rodimus was the one getting grief over it.

At that moment he sensed he was being watched that something that wasn't Hubcap peering through his cameras or Hot Shot poking his nose in the doorway.

When Rodimus looked up, Springer was shadowing his doorstep.

'Magnus,' Springer grumbled in greeting.

'Springer, what do you want?' he demanded sharply.

'We need to talk,' said Springer.

'Do we have to do this now?'

'Yup.'

Rodimus sighed and admired his pile of paperwork. Well, maybe for a few minutes he could pretend it didn't exist. In the end it didn't really matter because Springer had already entered, sealed the door behind him, and was now casting an ominous shadow over Rodimus and his desk. Clearly he had no intention of leaving without "talking."

'Brawn mentioned you were going to contact Kup,' said Springer.

'I did. Kup said he couldn't talk about it and hung up on me, which probably means he knows something. He did mention that the missing crew was led by Optimus Prime.'

'Someone you know?'

'I know _of_ him; he was one of the forerunners a few years before I got into the Academy, but he was expelled for some reason. Did you know he set the record on the combat training simulator? I've been trying to beat that score for stellar cycles!'

'What about that data you got from Strika's base? Have they analyzed it?'

'Do you think they'd tell me?' Rodimus countered. 'What do you want to talk about?'

'I think you know.'

'Uh, no, I don't. If I knew what we were talking about I wouldn't be asking you "what do you want to talk about?" So what is it?'

'Me. On this team.'

'Springer, I apologized for shooting you in the head, I apologized for not taking you with us to rescue Red Alert – what else do you want me to apologize for?'

'This isn't about you and me.'

'Oh.'

'You realize how big this is?'

'How big what is?'

'Primus, do I have to explain everything to you?'

'You're the one being cryptic. What's big, Springer? Just spit it out already.'

'This thing with that crew and their cargo disappearing. Has anyone said _what_ the cargo was?'

'No.'

'Exactly. So we can assume that it must've been something _pretty_ important if a Decepticon war ship tracked it down.'

'…Do you know what the cargo was?'

'Kind of. Got an idea, at least.'

'…And? C'mon, Springer, don't leave me hanging.'

'I can't tell you because if I know you, you'll blow it out of proportion and do something stupid. Not to mention I don't know for sure.' Springer leaned against his desk. 'If it is what I think it is, it'll change everything and if the Decepticons get a hold of it, there's going to be problems.'

'Problems?'

'Can you say "Autobot massacre?"'

'Sounds like fun.'

'Fun for the Decepticons,' Springer nodded gravely. 'Look, right up until I got shot, I'd been more…_accepting_ of being back on Athenia. I was even beginning to enjoy myself.' He pointed at the desk. 'This changes everything. The government's not going to admit that something's up and they're going to try and fix it, but they're going to fail because they don't know how to use drastic measures anymore. They forgot what we had to do back in the war to survive. _This_ has brought me back to the Wreckers' original purpose. Impactor's purpose. The purpose he gave all of us.'

'…You're going back to the Wreckers?' concluded Rodimus, slowly rising to his feet.

Springer didn't answer, but Rodimus could see it in his optics.

Rodimus hesitated. 'What do you plan to do when you rejoin the Wreckers?'

'We'll try to track down the ship that disappeared and piece together what happened. Kill any Decepticons along the way.'

'And when you find the "precious cargo?"'

'_If_ we find it…Well, I don't know. But we won't use it.'

'How do I know you're not lying to my face?'

'Guess you'll have to trust me.'

Rodimus looked carefully into Springer's optics and saw nothing subversive about it. Springer being a moral 'bot, he had to assume that he was telling the truth.

'Take Hot Shot as my replacement,' Springer suggested quickly. 'He's got the qualifications; they're not really up-to-date, but he can learn on the job.'

'Isn't he a little unstable?'

'And 'bots like Brawn and R.A. aren't? Keep him, Rodimus. He's a good Autobot.'

'…Cybertron Command won't like you leaving like this.'

'Do I look like I care?' Springer asked.

'Will anything I say stop you?'

'Nope,' said Springer. 'Look, I'll level with you. I was gonna just storm on out of here without sayin' anything, but I'm tellin' you because I like you, in a very weird sort of way. Now I need to know what you plan to do about it.'

'I got a few options,' said Rodimus. 'I can call the Autotroopers and you can pummel them on your way out…Or I can wait until morning, when you don't show up for your shift and I get a report that a shuttle's been stolen.'

Springer smirked. 'Then I'll see you in the morning?'

'Sure,' said Rodimus. 'Tomorrow, then.'

Springer paused in the entrance for only a second, highlighted by the dim light outside, and then he was gone. He left in silence, in stark contrast to their first encounter. There was no announcement that Springer had left the building, no broadcast, no flyers, and no farewell. Only the hollow echo of a 'bot who had once been here and had gladly stepped into the darkness, into another dimension that was so unfamiliar to rest of them.


	17. All the Time

**A/N:** Why is it that every time I think I've given up on this story I come back to it?

**All the Time**

Fifty stellar cycles later...

Rodimus had no idea what he was doing.

His body was operating on autopilot to go through the motions he was so familiar with, while aware of a tremendous and unknown weight crushing every semblance of hope. Everything about Athenia suddenly seemed disjointed. Once it was a place of order and a great deal of boredom, however never threatening. Rodimus could hardly believe himself. He had been face-to-face with the General of Destruction and he was panicking over the potential for a little siege. Could be a lot worse. He and his team could have been blown up back on Team Chaar's asteroid or he might have been expelled from the academy for some indiscernible reason or Red Alert might have decided that the team would make appropriate experiments. It was with this autopilot mindset that he found himself moving towards the danger instead of away, like he knew any reasonable Autobot within his position should do.

He sprinted forwards, drawing out his bow in preparation of a fight. He skidded to a halt at the foot of the Space Bridge and squinted to get a better look, but whatever was out there, he could only hear the roaring engines threatening to tear Athenia apart. When he looked up, he could see ships quickly passing by their colony and heading deeper into Autobot space. They weren't the friendly type. Defiant Decepticon insignias glared down at him to prove that years of silence hadn't meant that they had grown any weaker.

'It doesn't look like the squad at the colony is faring well,' remarked Rodimus. A distant exploded sounded and a portion of a building toppled over as if to emphasis this point.

'That doesn't look good,' said Ironhide, coming up alongside him.

'At least we're keeping them in business,' Hot Shot moved slightly ahead of them, his chassis outlined in the brilliant white light. 'They do make a living out of shooting us.'

'Hard to forget,' Rodimus nodded. 'Are those aerial defence systems working?'

'Does anything work around here?' Hot Shot asked. 'If you ask me, we should've left on the evacuation ships while we still could. Ow!'

Red Alert had just smacked Hot Shot on the back of the head. 'We're not going anywhere.'

'The 'cons'll make sure of that,' finished Brawn.

'What's the word, Major?' Ironhide inquired.

Rodimus looked back at his team. They appeared relatively calm. Calmer than him, maybe, but there were emotions that were playing behind their blank expressions that they were forced to put aside for the time being.

Up until a few megacycles ago, they'd had all the time in the world.

He couldn't remember how much time had past since Hot Shot had joined the team, since a Wrecker left their midst and his boisterous presence was replaced with routine. He couldn't remember how long it had been since they'd gotten into a real conflict, since all suddenly went quiet on the Galactic Rim. Rodimus couldn't remember the last time he'd really tangled with someone outside of the training simulator or shot at anything other than a target. His days were mingled between regular patrols and minor violations around the Space Bridge, with the occasional distress signal for a broken engine or an accident. No gunfire, no excitement, no nothing. He would've thought that the way Springer had been talking that they were on the brink of war, but they hadn't even heard from him in all that time with the exception of one sparse message explaining that it was far too risky to keep in regular contact. The most they heard from him were urban legends about the Wreckers' activities, and even they knew when to stay out of radar.

The promotion to "Major" had been something of a mixture between a formality and an insult. Rodimus had earned the position, however every Cybertronian knew that the obscure rank of "Major" basically meant that he just wasn't doing something quite right. During the war, Majors had been respected and revered, and in present times when a Minor got promoted, they went straight to Prime. That meant that Rodimus was behind a lot of other commanding 'bots currently in active service.

Fifty stellar cycles of complete and utter silence on the Galactic Rim, and if anything, Rodimus and the crew became wearier of the endless silence. Instead of the tension eroding, it sharpened.

He had to focus, but focusing seemed impossible to achieve when he'd been told just a solar cycle ago that the Decepticons were coming and to evacuate all non-essential personnel, which in this case accounted for basically everyone in the colony. Cybertron Command had taken the time to give them specific orders to guard the Space Bridge at the cost of their lives. He didn't like defending a fairly large territory with a minimal crew, particularly when they weren't sure what to expect. When he'd inquired about this, the only replied he'd received from Cybertron Command was "expect the worst".

That familiar tranquillity of Athenia was shattered, and when he looked into the optics of his crew, he saw his own doubt reflected back at him.

'Our orders are to defend the Space Bridge regardless of the cost,' explained Rodimus. They already knew this, but he had to reinforce it. 'That means no backing down, no hesitation, and shoot to kill. If one Decepticon gets through us, we've failed. I know it's just the five of us, but it's unlikely that the Decepticons will pour a lot of effort to taking the Space Bridge and that's where we have the advantage. Brawn, Ironhide, and Hot Shot - I want you three to be at the front and be ready to take the brunt of the attack. Meanwhile, Red Alert's going to be closer to the Space Bridge and engage any Decepticon who gets too close. I'll be at mid-range so I can get a decent shot while still being ready to dive into the action in the event this goes sour. Any questions?'

'I'm good to go,' announced Hot Shot.

Everyone else nodded in response before disbanding to their respective positions. Red Alert retreated back to the Space Bridge while Brawn, Ironhide, and Hot Shot transformed and charged forwards, fearless in the face of danger. Rodimus followed them.

They couldn't have been more timely. The pulsation of gunfire pelting into the ground was what alerted Rodimus to the blatantly obvious fact that they were in for it.

A Decepticon jet flew low overhead. Gunfire caused the earth to explode in thick clouds of choking smoke. Rodimus peered down the shaft of his arrows, but hesitated – knowing that within that cloud was the remainder of his team. In a flash of brilliant light, he spotted three shadows be expelled from the cloud and hit with earth with tremendous force. He leapt from his perch atop a boulder and sprinted towards their location, just as a pair of vehicles parted the cloud. The intent to maim and destroy was evident in their every motion, but especially apparent when the larger of the two raised cannons mounted on his vehicle mode, took aim, and fired.

Primus, why did he recognize that monstrous tank speeding towards them with the utmost deliberation?

Rodimus immediately denied his initial accusation. Fate couldn't be that cruel to him.

He skidded to a halt when he was halfway to the location of the rest of his team and fired. Hot Shot and Brawn began their own assaults. Brawn dug his fingers into the earth and ripped away a portion of it, which he aimed towards the advancing Decepticons and threw. Hot Shot did a few well-timed flips out of the way before unleashing a great burst of flames into the sky, prompting the shots to detonate in mid-air. It did nothing to deter them, save for a second barrage of cannon fire erupting from the tank's guns.

Rodimus felt time just about come to a halt when one of the shots landed directly in the midst of the group. It was Hot Shot – closest to the impact zone – who went flying and slammed into the ground several yards away. Rodimus changed direction mid-sprint to get to him, while the two 'cons finally broke through to them. The motorcycle diverted. The tank transformed and slammed, full-force, into Ironhide. It was at that point that Rodimus realized who it was, and once more he felt the overwhelming sense of resignation.

'Strika,' he breathed.

He glanced around. Hot Shot was unmoving nearby. Rodimusgrabbed Hot Shot with one hand and tossed him behind a rock before following shortly, a flash of white and a rippling effect in the air announcing that the shot had hit much closer than he thought it would.

Hot Shot still appeared to be in a state of shock. When they made eye contact, his face was indiscernible and livid. It was his leg that appeared to be smashed to bits, the knee joint only held together by a few loose cables.

'Thanks for the consideration,' drawled Hot Shot. 'The next time you save my life, could you be a little more gentle?'

'Are you okay?' Rodimus asked.

He shuddered. 'Depends on if that's who I think it is.'

'Red Alert's on her way. Don't move from this spot!'

'Yeah, I was planning to make a run for it. No kidding.'

Rodimus rolled out of cover, propped up his bow, and took his best shot at Strika. The impact was enough to knock her off balance and certainly enough for Brawn to go on the offence. He skidded forwards and slammed his fist into her knee. In what was a remarkably timed and well-coordinated series of movements, Brawn managed to get a good grip on her leg. He swung her over his head and slammed her into the ground, before tossing her across the plain. Due to Strika's weight, she fell prematurely, but Brawn appeared quite pleased with the result.

He could hear the sound of the incoming jet. If that was Strika, than that had to be Cyclonus.

'Brawn, Ironhide!' Rodimus called. 'Fall back to the Space Bridge!'

Even as he vocalized these words, he realized that it was already too late.

Rodimus wasn't sure what even happened. First, Oil Slick cut off Ironhide and Brawn. They slid, and then Cyclonus descended from above and slammed down in front of them. They were both launched into the air. Ironhide managed to transform, land, and aimed a punch towards the Decepticon, but Cyclonus merely threw him aside.

A shadow descended on him. Rodimus peered up just as a massive Decepticon slammed into the ground. He was thrust backwards by a tremendous force that shook the asteroid. The moment he found leverage, he twisted back onto his feet to face them, but the only thing he faced was Strika's fist hurtling towards him. Rodimus slid under it, but Strika was having none of it; she grabbed the entirety of his chassis and slammed him to the ground. His bow abruptly left his fingers.

Strika pressed his foot on his back, pinning him to the spot. Rodimus reached for his bow. She stamped on it and he could feel every part of his spark shatter with it. Attempting to slide underneath her failed to work. Strika simply lifted him up and threw him down a second time, creating a rocketing sensation that paralysed every fibre of his body. Whatever coherent plan he'd had up until now, whatever reason and strategy he used, was replaced by the blind, inconsolable fear of his own inevitable death. Rodimus remained still, survival instincts suddenly heightened to the point where he no longer cared if he appeared foolish by running, but something else keeping him pinned.

'Stay down!' Strika ordered.

For good measure, she stamped on his hand.

Of course, considering Strika's weight, that was the equivalent of a building falling on top of it. Rodimus had to grit his dental plates to prevent himself from giving her the satisfaction of a scream, despite the fact that every raw nerve in his arm was telling him to do so. He didn't dare look at the damage when she retracted her foot.

Strika passed over him, the ground trembling under her wake. Rodimus blinked up at the starred sky of Athenia, unsure of how to react.

'Cyclonus, Oil Slick, help Spittor and check the perimeter,' ordered Strika.

Rodimus's first reaction was to be offended. Slowly, Rodimus rose to his feet. He had no weapons, no plan, but the brief flash of terror had subsided, replaced with frustration and anger that Strika didn't think he was worth killing.

'You'll have to get past me first!' Rodimus exclaimed. He stumbled over and placed himself between the 'cons and the Space Bridge.

He drew out an arrow and tossed it with his one good servo. It streaked through the air and narrowly missed Oil Slick, who twisted to avoid the attack.

'You say that like it's a difficult thing, Autobot,' Oil Slick said casually.

Oil Slick raised a vial filled with an unusual green liquid. Rodimus's immediate reaction was "JaAm", but that theory was quickly disproved when the Decepticon threw the canister towards him and it shattered at his feet. At first, he didn't notice any effect, before a numbing sensation started crawling from the spot the canister had hit and flew through the rest of his body. All at once his legs gave out from underneath him, with his final memory being that of raising his hand and watching a red substance crawl up the length of his arm.


	18. Old Friends

**Old Friends**

A few megacycles ago, their worst fears had been just in their imagination.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Once, Rodimus might have been slightly concerned about the state his office was in. In short, it was a righteous mess of loose datapads that seemed to multiply from his desk area before streaming out towards the door. He was fairly certain he had a computer somewhere under all this, but he was too busy pacing to try and search for it – stopping only to occasionally pick up a datapad and review its contents. Most of them were unanswered letters he'd written to Cybertron Command regarding everything from a shortage of security 'bots, to the vending machine in the outside hall. He'd nonchalantly carved a path through the mess as his pacing proceeded through the dead of night, to the earliest hours of the morning, when he usually surrendered to fatigue or his official work hours began.

His office door opened. Rodimus judged by the heavy footsteps and the ominous shadow crossing the room that it was Ironhide.

'What is it?' Rodimus demanded. 'Are the Deceptions attacking? Is someone offline? Did Hot Shot blow up something?'

'No, no, and no,' Ironhide stepped in. It was clear by Ironhide's blank expression that he was quite used to this reaction.

'Is the Space Bridge malfunctioning? Did it collapse? Have we received a mysterious distress signal that we have to investigate and inevitably be led into a trap? Has there be an outbreak of Gold Plastic Syndrome? Has Red Alert been infected with Gold Plastic Syndrome and can't create an antidote to Gold Plastic Syndrome and therefore we must quarantine the whole spaceport?'

'...Rodimus, do you remember that talk we had?'

'Which one? The talk about pacing? The talk about overworking? The talk about theorizing every possible thing that could go wrong while I'm not paying attention? The talk about pacing?'

'You said pacing twice.'

'Oh.'

'Boy, you're tenser than usual today.'

'The Decepticons are on their way here...and you don't feel that it doesn't warrant feeling tense?'

Ironhide shrugged. 'Well, I'm indestructible, so at least I'll still be alive even if Athenia blows up.'

Rodimus glared at him.

'That's a joke, see.'

'Not helping.'

'The others are waiting.'

Rodimus sighed and leaned over his desk, before straightening up.

'Right,' he said. 'Where are we at?'

Ironhide appeared pleased at his renewed motion, escorting him to the main common room, which was equally destroyed with everything that had been going on. To think just a few days ago, this place had been alight with the usual scuffles over video games, television privileges, and with little to no mention of Decepticons. Those were days that had been gone for a long time and a war was suddenly renewed overnight, as if nothing had happened in the gap since anyone had last heard from them.

'Red Alert's overseeing the final evacuations,' reported Ironhide. 'Brawn's trying to get our defense towers back up and running.'

'Is he having any luck?'

'You'll have to ask him. Personally, I didn't think it looked too good.'

'And Hot Shot?'

'He's arguing with the vending machine.'

Rodimus groaned. He headed towards the front door. 'Not again. Okay, I'll start with him.'

'It's about it's terrible service,' said Ironhide.

Rodimus turned on his heel and headed in the opposite direction. 'I'll save him for last.'

The two of them headed out to the docks, where it was surprisingly vacant and quiet for a typical day on Athenia – not that this day would count as typical in any way. Rodimus could still hear the buzz of the crowds as they'd boarded the evacuation ships just a few days ago. At the very end of the dock was a faded old mining vessel dragged in from one of the furthest outposts the Autobots had, one of the few vessels that had managed to escape to warn the remainder of space. It was here that he could hear the distant voice of Red Alert rising above the final evacuees. Rodimus headed towards it automatically, with Ironhide right on his heels.

He found her at the end of the dock, speaking to one of the Space Bridge workers.

'Look, if you stay here, you go offline!' Red Alert argued.

'I don't have to go anywhere!' the worker protested. 'I'm staying! You can't force us to leave!'

'The government says otherwise!'

'She's right,' Rodimus stepped forwards. 'Cybertron Command says everyone with the exception of the security crew have to go. Do you really want to be here when the Decepticons get here?'

'I want to stay with my quarters!' protested the worker.

'I don't like it either, but I promise you that we will try to protect as much property as we can.'

'But there aren't any – !'

'These orders come directly from Cybertron Command. Get on the ship.'

The worker glared at him, obviously defiant, but with Ironhide looming behind him, he seemed to think better of protesting and moved towards the ship.

'Stupid orders, if you ask me,' snarled Red Alert.

'R.A.,' Rodimus sighed.

'Why just leave us? Why not some back up? I mean, come on! There's just the four of us!'

'I think you gotta count again, R.A.,' laughed Ironhide.

'Hot Shot doesn't count. There's four of us.'

'We have another squad in the town,' pointed out Rodimus.

'Like that'll do much.'

'We still have the aerial guns.'

'If Brawn can even get those things working,' Red Alert shook her head. 'Most Autobots have some competence in combat. If we were just allowed just a few – !'

'They need those Autobots somewhere else,' Rodimus defended. 'Is this the last of the ships?'

'All except the Sojourner's Passage.'

'Oh, right,' Rodimus looked further down the dock and nearly cringed in guilt when he saw their pristine ship at the very end.

He knew what Red Alert was getting at. If they just had a few more Autobots on their side, they could have the Passage running with a full crew – and they could use incoming Decepticon ships as target practice. But there was just the five of them and he needed them all on the ground, while the other squad was needed to defend the town. There was little point in lingering on "what ifs"; the fact of the matter was that they didn't have that imaginary crew.

'I'm going to check on Brawn's progress,' Rodimus decided, effectively breaking up the discussion. 'When you're done here, I want you to be ready for casualities.'

Good old Red Alert didn't even blink. 'I'm always ready for casualities.'

'That's a bit morbid.'

She shrugged. 'Not when I'm around you four.'

Rodimus moved with Ironhide further down the docks, towards a noticeable tower situated at the end, so old and neglected over the years that he had ceased to notice it, even failing to notice the protruding aerial gun positioned at its very height. It was here that he could hear the distant swears of Brawn, but as they proceeded with their approach, a familiar voice chimed over his com link.

'_Hi, Hawkeye, I got a message from Cybertron Command about your request for engineers_,' Hubcap reported.

'Good, what did they say?' Rodimus inquired.

'_Request denied. I mean, seriously, what do they need with a bunch of engineers, anyways? It's not like we're Cybertron's last line of defense!_'

'We're no where near Cybertron.'

'_Well, yes, but we are one of the closest colonies to the Galactic Rim. Where do you think the 'cons are gonna stop first?_'

Rodimus paused and briefly looked back at the shuttle now preparing to launch, firing a barrage of muted noises into space before moving away from the port.

'Are you on an evacuation shuttle?' he asked.

'_Absolutely not_!' Hubcap exclaimed.

'Hubcap, we talked about this – .'

'_And I keep tellin' you: someone's gotta make sure you security guys don't kill yourself. I mean, don't expect me to leap into the fray to rescue you or anything, but someone has to sit up in this tower and warn you if you're about to get your fanplates kicked by a bunch of Decepticreeps. Not to mention that basically everyone's left the colony by now and have therefore –_ .'

'Left all their possessions unattended. If you think that I'm going to stand by and let you loot other 'bots' things, think again.'

'_I never said that! I said I was going to say that everybot has left their quarters unattended, and with you busy with the Space Bridge and all - !_'

'Hubcap, if you're just going to be looming around with your piston in your servo – !'

'_I mean, some 'bots might feel the need to take advantage of this situation, but I am far more moral than that. I expected you to have a better opinion of me! I am not going to stoop so low as to actually raid quarters when bots' are currently terrified and possibly scarred for life about the potential for attack! Do you really think that I would actually break into homes?_'

'Yes.'

'_That is beside the point! Whoops, I have to go. I just found the most delightful – uh, I have to keep monitoring the scanners.'_

'Hubcap, don't you hang up on – !' Rodimus stopped short when Hubcap closed the link. 'Ironhide, go find Hubcap. If he's going to stay on Athenia, I want him actually concentrating on the scanners, not looting.'

'Sure thing,' said Ironhide.

Ironhide broke away from him just as Rodimus approached the foot of the tower. The door leading into the immediate interior was propped wide open and Brawn was just inside, currently muttering to himself and tearing the place apart. Rodimus ducked as a random piece of equipment he was tossing out the door.

'Brawn, I don't know if you realize this, but we kind of need this thing to work,' said Rodimus. 'How effective do you think this is going to be if you tear it apart?'

'Probably more effective than it was before!' Brawn called back. He emerged from the darkness and was visibly covered in oil and stains.

'It's broken?' Rodimus assumed.

'Yup.'

'We have three of these things. Are you saying that _none_ of them are working?'

'Yup.'

'And we've had these sitting around because...?'

'No idea,' Brawn answered.

'Now what are we supposed to do?' Rodimus demanded. 'We're going to have Decepticon ships flying right over us and we can't do anything to slow them down!'

'We'll improvise, like we always have,' said Brawn.

Rodimus stepped forwards. 'I don't care if you have to rip up this whole colony to get parts. I want you to get at least one of the aerial guns up and running!'

'I'm not an engineer.'

'You're the closest thing we have.'

Rodimus stormed off back to their headquarters, watching dejectedly as the final shuttle disappeared out of view and left the remainder of Athenia in complete silence.

He moved through their headquarters until he was in the interior hallway, where he found the last member of their team standing just outside, facing the vending machine bolted to the wall.

'So, if you refuse me service, doesn't that mean you're disobeying your core programming?' reasoned Hot Shot.

'I apologize for the inconvenience,' apologized a chiming femme voice. 'This unit is currently out of order. I would also like to compare your persistence with a ravenous Nebuleon space leech.'

'That's not what you were telling me a few minutes - _hey_!'

'Hot Shot, what are you doing?' asked Rodimus.

'Not now,' Hot Shot waved at him vaguely. 'I'm currently having an in-depth philosophical conversation with the vending machine and we mustn't be disturbed until I convince her that I'm right!'

'Don't you have more important things to do? I thought I told you to help Brawn.'

'Brawn said I'd help by not helping.' He turned back to the vending machine. 'Now, regarding your statement about the impudence of the Autobot ideology...'

Rodimus grabbed Hot Shot's shoulder and dragged him away.

'This isn't over!' Hot Shot called.

'I have a job for you,' said Rodimus.

'Another one?' Hot Shot groaned.

'This one I think you can actually do.'

Rodimus dragged Hot Shot through their headquarters, to a small control center they'd assembled in a back, desolate corner that barely fit in with the remainder of the degenerative surroundings. Over the years Rodimus had given up on attempting to maintain some fraction of organizational efforts and it was now littered with wires going across the floor to power the monitors, trash, and other objects he didn't know the nature of. He placed Hot Shot in front of their control centre, which currently displayed security cameras erected all across the Space Bridge, where in an instant they could be upon any existing criminals. Right now there were none.

'Do you remember that time you erased everything from our databases?' Rodimus questioned.

'You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?' demanded Hot Shot.

'So you do remember?'

'I remember you yelling at me, a lot of it was pretty incoherent but the reasons behind it were quite clear, thank you very much.'

'Good. I want you to do exactly what you did then right now.'

'You mean you _want_ me to erase our databases?'

'Yes. Personnel files, security videos, and all, but especially the codes for the Space Bridge. If they get those codes, they will be able to transwarp to anywhere in the nexus, including directly to Cybertron.'

'That's not good.'

'Excellent observation. Can you do it?'

'Erase the database?' Hot Shot cracked his knuckles. 'No problem.'

Above him, Rodimus felt the entirety of the building tremble so subtly that he wouldn't have noticed it if it wasn't for the fact that all other lifeforms were absent from the asteroid.

'Be quick about it,' urged Rodimus.

'I'm on it, quite hovering.'

Rodimus looked up when someone emerged from the medical bay. It was Red Alert. She was adjusting the device on her left hand.

'Ready?' Rodimus asked.

'I was ready prior to your enquiry,' answered Red Alert.

'I'm ready, too,' announced Hot Shot.

'What about the database?' Rodimus asked.

'Erased it.'

'What? How did you do that so quickly?'

'I touched it.'

Sure enough, the monitors were filled with nothing but white static.

'Okay, let's head out, then,' said Rodimus.

He lead them into the main hall, back out towards where they'd come in – and towards the Space Bridge. Red Alert and Hot Shot kept in pace behind him.

'How did your conversation with the vending machine go?' inquired Red Alert.

'Pretty boring, actually.'

'Yes, I imagine that a conversation with an animate piece of machinery would be about as enthralling as a conversation with Brawn.'

'I don't think Brawn would like that much.'

'Which is precisely why I do not intend to tell him. In any case, I retract my earlier statement – a conversation with a vending machine is more enthralling than a conversation with you.'

'That hurt my feelings!'

'Your feelings are artificial. We just maintain emotions because of our _current_ emotions, we find the idea of existing without emotions simply too despicable to even consider the possibility of trying to achieve.'

'That sounds like it came directly out of Perceptor's mouth.'

'It did. He has a way of saying things so many times that you memorize exactly what he's going to say next. The thing about not having emotions is that they tend to make you a bit predictable because you don't feel any semblance of guilt or awkwardness repeating yourself.'

'Keep that in mind. You might be able to bore the Decepticons to death.'

'If we actually fight Decepticons.'

'What? Here Rodimus is getting all paranoid about Decepticons, and now I'm told there isn't even going to be a _fight_?'

'Hopefully that will be averted. Athenia is small. It's unlikely they'd see us as a threat.'

'Except we got a Decepticon lightning rod right out there.'

Both Red Alert and Rodimus looked at him curiously.

'The Space Bridge,' he elaborated in a low, dramatic tone.

Within minutes, the three of them emerged in front of the Space Bridge and Rodimus peered up at the distinctive fork-shaped structure. It seemed to have forgotten the threat of attack and created a high expanse of stars strewn across the sky. They were joined shortly by Ironhide and Brawn, accompanied by the distant sounds of an approaching fleet.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Rodimus's eyes were covered in static and when they finally reinitialized after tense moments of silence, his world suddenly became blindingly bright, and then dark. He was vaguely aware of voices hovering somewhere above his head, but they were muffled and impossible to distinguish from one another. Soon everything around him solidified and he peered around at his blurred surroundings. Screaming was coming from nearby.

It sounded like Hot Shot.

'Hot Shot?' murmured Rodimus.

Rodimus made an attempt to sit up. Attempt, because a servo promptly steadied him.

'Don't move,' Red Alert's voice demanded.

'What's – ?' Rodimus stopped short when he saw where the screaming was coming from. Oil Slick was just going through the doorway, dragging behind him a struggling Hot Shot. Hot Shot's experssion was ridden with nothing but pure panic.

'You're infected with Cosmic Rust,' explained Red Alert.

She appeared by his side. Rodimus meant to turn his head to look at her, but realized that this was something he couldn't do. There didn't appear to be anything preventing him from doing so except his entire neck had become rigid. Behind her, he could see Ironhide and Brawn, appearing more pathetic and defeated than he'd ever seen them.

Rodimus briefly assessed their location. They were in the brigs in their headquarters. He was used to being on the other side of the barrier, but this time was much different. This time the lights had been dimmed so that he could only see the optics of his team in the blackness and the overwhelming stench of oil and energon filled his olfactory sensors.

'Hot Shot?' Rodimus repeated.

He thought he saw a flicker of emotion behind Red Alert's perpetually solid gaze. It happened so quickly that he didn't get time to assess the expression.

'Oil Slick dragged him away,' continued Red Alert.

'We've got to – !'

'We lost, Rodimus, get over it and let me assess the progress of the infection. If it spreads to your internal systems, it could potentially stop your spark.'

'There isn't – !'

'This is serious. Right now it's just your limbs, however Cosmic Rust spreads quickly and I do not have the necessary tools to slow the rate of infection.'

'I'm not going to lie here while Hot Shot's in danger!' Rodimus exclaimed.

Screw treatment! Hot Shot was somewhere else with _Oil Slick_! That alone suggested "psychiatric hospital" to him and he momentarily entertained a putrid image of their pyrotechnican, curled in a corner and shivering weakly. It wasn't unlike some of the rougher times over the last few years after his unexpected rescue from Team Chaar's grasp. In those first few years, Hot Shot had occasionally walked around with a vacant, blank expression or wandered their headquarters, citing insomnia when Rodimus knew it was only the nightmares. The thought of Hot Shot regressing...That wanted him to jump up and get back into action, but when he made an attempt to move his arm, he found his movements were met with only a low crack that made everyone in the vicinity look up. Only Red Alert remained unchanged.

'Do you think it's easy for me to say that there isn't anything we can do?' Red Alert said flatly – and quite unconvincingly. 'Hot Shot's a part of this team, I know that, but he isn't here and we don't know if he's online, injured, or offline. Right now, I see you sitting in front of me and all I can think about are the victims of Cosmic Rust I treated back in the war. Listen to me, Rodimus, that rust is going to go into every part of your chassis, including but not limited to your internal cooling units, sensory cables, vocal processor, and – last but not least – the spark chamber.'

'I feel fine!' Rodimus denied.

'You're not going to be saying that when you're completely paralysed! In fact, by the time that happens, you won't be saying anything!'

'I'm not just going to lie here while the Decepticons have the run of the place.'

Rodimus made his second attempt to stand – this time disregarding Red Alert's attempts to sit him down. As he did so he realized that the Decepticons hadn't left them unguarded; hovering just outside the cell door was Spittor. He waved.

'Cosmic Rust isn't contagious, is it?' asked Spittor. 'Feel kind of nervous standing here.'

'No, you have to be directly infected,' answered Red Alert. 'You should know that, 'con. You hang around Oil Slick enough.'

'I tune out most of what Oil Slick says. If you ask me, listening to him is more unhealthy than being his enemy.'

'Will you _please_ not make small talk with the Decepticreep?' groaned Brawn.

'You're one to talk!' scoffed Red Alert. 'If you and Ironhide had just held your ground, we wouldn't be in this position!'

'I didn't exactly see you leap in to save our skidplates!'

'This coming from the "bot that don't need saving"! Primus, you're such a piston rod!'

'Knock it off!' Rodimus managed to sit up on one elbow. 'This isn't the time to point fingers!'

'Definately not,' Red Alert shoved Rodimus back down without too much effort. 'The infection will spread more quickly if you move around.'

'How long?' Rodimus asked.

'Few minutes at the most,' said Red Alert. 'Can you move your hand?'

Rodimus wasn't even aware that he had a hand. Nevertheless, he made an effort to abide by her efforts, except that somehow this command – so automatic to him – rendered no response. It was then that the mentality of an archer stopped and he gave into the panic. Rushing through his mind were the horror stories of 'bots steadily disintegrating into inert piles of metal, the rust eating into every part of his body. The only sensation he'd be able to feel was the pain already teasing him like one of Hot Shot's bad jokes. There was no blissful unconsciousness where he could retreat, only a reality he dreaded to face. He'd be aware of every last moment of his existence. This was it. He was going to go offline.

Just as he started to contemplate how he would handle his last few moments of the capability to speak, he saw a vague shadow out of the corner of his eye. He instinctively knew that the great mass of metal shoving Spittor out of the way was Strika. He didn't even have to scrutinize her faceplate to know that she was royally ticked off about something.

The General of Destruction squeezed her way into the room. She looked at them all hardly, finally settling her beating red optics on Rodimus.

'I want the codes to the Space Bridge,' demanded Strika. 'You're going to give them to me.'

'Or what?' Rodimus challenged. To his horror, his voice cracked under the weight of rust he could feel starting to crawl into his vocal processors. 'You'll let Oil Slick offline Hot Shot?'

'He's already offline. However, I see four other Autobots before me and I know one thing about Autobot protocol: only two of you have the codes to the Space Bridge aside from the maintenance crews and control tower. You, Rodimus Prime, and you, Ironhide.'

'Nobody's handing over the codes,' stated Rodimus. He willed his voice to retain what little strength was left – to make sure that, with this last word – his team knew that this was a direct order. '_Nobody_.'

'Have it your way.'

Strika grabbed Red Alert by her ankle. She casually threw her through the air and slammed her into the ground. Rodimus focused entirely on the ceiling. There was a scuffle nearby.

'No.' That was Red Alert's voice. Whatever facade of calm had been there before, it was gone now. 'No...No – no – no – !'

A sickening crunch of metal. Then another.

'Get yer servos off of – !'

'Spittor.'

'Down, Ironhead,' demanded Spittor's slimy, harsh voice. 'Sit down and watch the fun.'

The pulsating sound of Strika driving her fist into Red Alert's frail chassis continued to resonate throughout the cell. The doctor was on the verge of a death cry that never came. Rodimus's audio receptors refused to believe what they heard. For some reason he started to think about that morning, when Hot Shot and Red Alert had been chatting so idly about...something. He suddenly couldn't quite remember where he was or what he was or what that sharp, metallic sound was that was ringing in his ear. In the midst of all this, Red Alert's vocal processor had given out and was letting out a distorted scream. Then there was an abrupt silence and Strika appeared in his peripheral vision, holding the doctor by the head. Casually she made a fist. What remained of Red Alert's face gave in. A mixture of oil and energon dripped down her body in an ironic rainbow of distorted, light purple and contrasting black. Red Alert dropped heavily to the floor, as if she had waited for her entire existence to surmount to gratefully surrendering to everyday exist. To die was to be relieved of every burden.

Strika snatched Rodimus's ankle and dragged him across the cell. He vaguely heard protests, but he attempted to drown them out; he had to think. He had to think of an escape. He would get his team out of this somehow. Still, his body protested this mental decision. There was no moving. He had to watch the ceiling pass him by until the ceiling transformed into a starfield, with asteroids idly drifting by. One leg was still usable and he struggled feebly. Rodimus became distracted when a cloudy vision of an orange, forked structure appeared before him. With a final tug, Strika pulled him to his feet.

His body screamed in protest. He stumbled forwards and slammed into the ground. Strika delivered a swift kick to his abdomen.

'You're going to give me the codes!' Strika demanded.

Rodimus couldn't help but laugh.

'The codes! _Now_!'

He continued to let out a long, unstoppable laugh that seemed to come a part of him he didn't know he had. It ended when Strika slammed her foot into his body and he rolled over.

Grabbing his shoulder, Strika pulled him to his feet and positioned him in front of what he recognized as a console where the codes were usually entered. He leaned on it, his arm shaking violently.

'If this team doesn't stop killing the Autobots, we won't have anyone left to interrogate,' remarked a low voice. It sounded like Cyclonus.

'I'll get him talking!' Strika shouted. 'Give up the space bridge codes! This is your last warning!'

Cyclonus slammed his head against the console. 'Do as she instructs. Strika knows you are important to our cause and will hesitate to kill you. _I won't_.'

'There's no need for that.'

Rodimus struggled to see what all the Decepticons were looking at.

'Ironhide has agreed to give us the access codes,' reported Spittor.

'Where's Brawn?' demanded Strika. 'If you've left him unguarded – !'

'Don't worry, I took care of him,' said Spittor. 'Gosh, you're so uptight. Do you really think I'm that big of an idiot?'

'Yes,' answered Oil Slick.

'Very funny,.'

'Fine, then hand over the access codes,' ordered Strika.

Several Decepticons moved to give someone access to the console. Rodimus could tell that it was, indeed, Ironhide just from the footsteps.

A sudden rush of energy willed his arm to move. He reached over and grabbed Ironhide's ankle, mentally screaming at him to stop while he still could.

_C'mon, Ironhide, there's no point. They've already killed us. Please._

However, the computer simply requested Ironhide's access code and he surrendered it after a brief pause.

'Good, then it's done,' said Strika. 'Get ready to transwarp.'

'What about Ironhide?' asked Spittor.

'Blackout, finish him off.'

His body – out of his own control – jumped slightly when Blackout stormed forwards. Ironhide remained where he was, unmoving, while he could vaguely hear the Decepticon group disbanding.

Blackout's baritone voice seemed to shake space, itself. 'Go ahead, Autobot. Activate your iron cloak. I want to break it.'

Ironhide's response was low and barely audible. 'No.'

Rodimus lost control of his own thoughts. He managed to dim his optics; he knew it would probably be the last time he opened them. Inside, he started to scream to drown out everything that was out there. He didn't want to know if he was truly alive. In fact, he rather thought that he'd feel more alive when he was offline.


	19. No Greater Evil, Part I

**No Greater Evil, Part I**

Cliffjumper was having a bad day and he was making everyone in his department knew it.

He peered up from his desk, casting the group of agents standing before him with malice. Their arms were folded defensively, their expressions sceptical at best. This was a vast improvement in how their encounters usually went.

'Are you going to do something or are you going to stand there and pout?' demanded Cliffjumper.

'Longarm doesn't seem worried,' pointed out one of the agents. 'We want to receive confirmation from him, personally.

'Longarm's busy,' contradicted Cliffjumper. 'I'm speaking for him.'

'You're a secretary.'

'Personal assistant.'

'There's a difference between speaking to the secretary and speaking to the head of Intelligence.'

'Longarm wants you to evacuate who you can from the Metroplex and get anyone who can fight to get ready to do just that. That's all you need - .'

'Okay, look,' the agent put up his servo. 'Your job is to convey information, not order us around. Unless we hear directly from Longarm, we're not taking any action. For all we know, you could be making this invasion scrap up.'

'...Do you really think I'd make something like this up?'

'For attention? Yes.'

One of the agents moved to the door leading into Longarm's office.

'Hey, you can't go in there!' proclaimed Cliffjumper.

The agent ignored him, opened the door without authorization, and then slipped back outside.

'He's not there,' the Autobot reported.

'Longarm is at the Space Bridge Nexus and he doesn't – ,' Cliffjumper started.

'C'mon, let's go,' urged the agents.

'Hey...HEY!' Cliffjumper shouted after them. 'I'm not done talking to – !'

As usual they ignored him. The moment they were going, he slumped into his chair in defeat.

'I should be used to this,' he mumbled.

Under normal circumstances Cliffjumper wasn't especially observant about his personality because he'd learned from experience that the more he analyzed his actions the more painful it was. From his perception, it was better to simply act without having to debate whether his actions were morally acceptable. No, Cliffjumper was aware that he was "bad tempered" because everyone felt the need to constantly remind him to behave. It was like he was unreliable. But would an unreliable Autobot be placed in charge of managing Longarm's day-to-day affairs? Would an unreliable Autobot be entrusted with some of the greatest secrets the Commonwealth had to offer? And it was because Cliffjumper knew he was a reliable Autobot that he kept a stockpile of weapons at his desk for just such an emergency.

He resumed what he had been doing before being so rudely interrupted by disgruntled Intel agents. Shuffling through the drawers, Cliffjumper quickly took inventory of all that was available and selected which weapons to carry with him. He already had an arm cannon installed in both arms, but eventually he settled with a handful of grenades, smoke bomb, two pistols, and a rocket launcher. Only the basics. Cliffjumper had to restrain himself from taking his full arsenal with him; technically he wasn't supposed to have weapons and preferably he wanted to avoid provoking the Council. He'd gotten in far too much trouble to want to cross them again. Not something he'd usually worry about, but if he got arrested at a crucial point like this he was going to be very unhappy.

Perhaps he was merely victim to the tension hanging high over the Metroplex. When Cliffjumper peered out the window, he saw several Autobots moving quickly to their destinations in the courtyard below, while the neon advertisements and billboards of the city beyond demanded that everybody return to their stations instead of the usual propaganda concerning betting rings in the race tracks and Maccadam's latest deals. The office of Cybertron Intelligence was surprisingly vacant for this time of day. Normally there was someone wandering through to make some obligatory complaint or an agent reporting in after a few stellar cycles out in the field. There was something forced about "everyday business", especially in the past few days when word came in from the Galactic Rim about the increased Decepticon activity.

Sighing at the memory, Cliffjumper shut the drawers and slumped into his seat, covering his faceplace with his servos. He'd known this was going to happen for quite sometime. The treaty that had established the Galactic Rim had been created shortly after the conclusion of the Great War, essentially reaffirming an unstable relationship between Autobots and Decepticons. He'd known the moment they'd created that slagging rift in the middle of space that somehow, someway, it was going to come back to wreck havoc. The only Autobot in existence who had taken his claims seriously was that of Longarm Prime, but even he said that there was little they could do to reinforce the border. Year after year, the Decepticons had gone steadily silent and raids became less and less frequent. Then there was nothing for centuries, and for the first time Cliffjumper found he actually had the time to focus on additional threats to the Autobots, such as those damn Quintessons.

Two things had happened fifty stellar cycles ago that changed it all.

The first thing that happened was an unprecedented sighing of Strika – the fabled General of Destruction – followed by the equally unprecedented kidnapping of one Red Alert, who had been presumed dead until Wheeljack and Perceptor had led a unit to go rescue her. That had been successful, but only just. Strika escaped. When that occurred, Cliffjumper suddenly realized that if Strika was alive...where did that leave the other Decepticons? Is it possible that they feigned silence while building an army?

The second thing that occurred was the discovery of an Allspark. The only proof they had even existed was a brief, one-cycle security footage relayed to them by the repair crew that had discovered the object lodged in a pile of rock. The repair crew then disappeared after sending a distress signal. Gone. Vanished. Nothing. All that was ever left of them was the debris of a Decepticon ship.

That was when Cliffjumper began smuggling weapons into his office and storing them in his desk. He was horrified that everyone had forgotten the incidents so quickly. Sure, the first incident was supposed to be classified – but who _didn't_ know about the Allspark? The only one who had taken Cliffjumper's theories seriously was – again – Longarm.

That made this day all the more unbearable.

He didn't look up when he heard the front door entered and picked up a datapad. He may as well pretend to look busy.

'What is it?' he demanded.

'Do you always greet Autobots like that?'

He slammed the datapad against the desk. Oh, slag. It was _her_.

When Cliffjumper looked up, he came optic-to-optic with a light pink femme currently sitting at the edge of his desk, her faceplate glowing.

'Not you again...' Cliffjumper murmured. '...Wait, are you actually looking at me?'

'Of course I am,' said Rosanna. 'Why wouldn't I?'

'Are you here to remind me I'm a personal assistant, claim I have no authority, demand to see Longarm, or completely ignore my existence?'

'Um...no to all of the above?'

Cliffjumper glared at her. For some reason this just annoyed him even more. 'What are you doing back on Cybertron? You have an assignment!'

'Yeah, about that...' Rosanna twiddled her thumbs. 'They fired me.'

'They _what_?' Cliffjumper slowly rose to his feet. 'You...How do you even get fired from an assignment?!'

'It's not my fault.'

'...You blew your cover, didn't you?'

'...I guess you haven't gotten that message yet...'

'That is the sixth time!'

'The fourth, actually. So anyways, I noticed that everyone seems to be in a bit of a rush. Something I should know about?'

'We're on the brink of an invasion. I think that gives everyone reason to rush.'

'So that's why your checking all your weapons. And here I was just assuming it was a routine inspection.'

'Look, this is a truly invigorating conversation and I hate to cut it short,' he mockingly waved a pistol at her. 'But I got more important things to do than write up another report about how you blew your cover again. That's going to have to wait. So if you will please _make yourself scarce,_ I've got a job to do.'

'You seem to be a little on edge...'

'Perhaps I'm not being clear,' Cliffjumper drew himself up to his full height. Unfortunately, even when he was standing straight, he was only a little bit taller than Rosanna. He pointed dramatically at the door. 'Go away!'

He returned to what he'd been doing before. Cliffjumper armed a hand-held pistol and absently studied the very illegal serial number.

'I think if this was a normal invasion you'd be a lot more excited,' said Rosanna. 'What else is going on?'

Cliffjumper didn't take his optics off the pistol. 'All our agents past the Galactic Rim have gone dark. The last communication came in a little less than two solar cycles ago. Other than that, nothing. Absolutely nothing.'

'Wait, we've lost contact with all of them?' Rosanna laughed slightly, but then her normally bright expression gave away into harsh realization. 'Exactly how many agents were past the Rim?'

'Forty-one. All MIA.'

She leaned further over. 'Blurr?'

Cliffjumper averted his optics. No sense conveying his underline sense of panic. He knew that if he looked at her now he'd only see his own worry reflected right back at him. 'Not sure, yet. He was out of Autobot space, but technically he wasn't in 'con territory. I sent him a message alerting him to the situation.'

'How long ago did you send it?

'I dunno – an hour or so?'

'...It isn't like Blurr to be late.'

'He isn't late!' Cliffjumper slammed his palms on the desk. 'It's only been an hour! Give the Autobot some time!'

Cliffjumper turned his back on her. He couldn't deal with this right now. How could be concentrate on his job when Blurr had potentially gone silent along with forty-one other agents that were his responsibility? Rosanna hesitantly reached forwards, but seemed to change her mind mid-reach and retracted her servo. He busied with arming himself with as many guns as he could carry to keep his mind off of the potential of a missing Blurr in the fray.

'Regardless, the fact that forty-one agents have gone missing says something about Cybertron Intelligence,' said Cliffjumper.

'And what's that?' asked Rosanna.

'These were deep cover agents. We don't even use their original designations because of the risk of exposure and there are only two Autobots in existence who can name every single one of them and their current locations by heart. One of them has to be a traitor.'

'Oh, Cliff, really! You think everyone's a traitor at one point or another. Don't you remember what happened with Mirage?'

'I don't think pushing him into a Space Bridge would be considered – !'

'Was Mirage actually a traitor?'

Cliffjumper grumbled. 'No. But this is different!'

'What if it's just a radio interference?'

'I checked that. All channels are clear. I'm just not getting any updates, which shouldn't happen unless they've all been spontaneously caught. One of the Autobots who knows about them must've passed on their location.'

'Okay, who are the possible traitors?'

'Myself or Longarm.'

'...You're not excluding yourself?'

'Hey, the Decepticons have reprogrammed Autobots before. It could happen again. I could be a traitor and not even realize it, which is why I'm giving you authorization to use lethal force in the event that I am the traitor and I resist arrest.'

'Cliffjumper...'

'This isn't me talking to you as a...well...uh...' Cliffjumper analyzed Rosanna's abruptly hopeful expression. He'd have to choose his next words carefully. 'This isn't me talking to you as a _casual acquaintance_. This is me talking to you as your superior officer.'

Rosanna sighed. 'If you're sure, but I really don't think you're capable of such a thing.'

'Don't count out anything. _Anyone_ is capable.'

Cliffjumper holstered his weapons and moved out from behind the desk. Armed to the teeth, he felt comfortable for the first time in centuries. He was finally back to his old self.

'...Going somewhere?' asked Rosanna.

'Longarm told me to be ready for a fight,' said Cliffjumper. 'Didn't look too happy when he headed out to the Nexus. Back when Highbrow was in charge, he said to me that he had one thing I had to do in the event of a Decepticon invasion.'

'Protect our intelligence network?'

'Protoform-sit the scientists. Not my usual thing, but I'll take what I can get.'

Cliffjumper transformed and sped out the doorway.

'What about Blurr?' Rosanna called.

'He's probably fine, just taking his sweet time responding to my message. I take it you want to come along?'

'Sure, I was bored anyways,' Rosanna shrugged. 'But – do you _really_ think there's going to be a problem with the Decepticons? It's really out of the way and the Elite Guard can handle – .'

He ignored her. Finally, he heard Rosanna sigh in defeat, transform, and pursue him down the ramp.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Not too long thereafter, Cliffjumper transformed just outside the laboratory of Perceptor and Wheeljack. He didn't know these two very well. Once in a while they'd get together in a casual, co-workers sort of way, which meant that their encounters with often riddled with tension and small talk. Cliffjumper didn't do small talk very well. Neither did Perceptor, whose emotions inhibited him from forming emotional connections with anyone, or Wheeljack, whose idea of "small talk" was rambling about scientific nonsense Cliffjumper didn't particularly care about unless it somehow related to a deadly weapon. Otherwise, they had a sense of mutual respect from a distance and didn't need to interact unless their respective professions somehow crossed paths.

Ever since the Great War, Ultra Magnus had made it clear to a great number of security Autobots and Cybertron Intelligence that their priority in the event of an invasion should be to protect their top scientists. In this case, their top scientists were Wheeljack and Perceptor, as brilliant as they were eccentric, and dangerous in their own right. Should the Decepticons capture them, only chaos would follow. It was simply the smartest strategy. By ensuring their safety, the Autobots had a chance to develop a clever counter attack from the relative safety of some isolated bunker out in the middle of no where. The scientists didn't appreciate this special attention when they'd clearly established their capability to defend themselves back in the War, especially during an incident in which they'd been stranded in the ruins of Protihex for in excess of seven orbital cycles. (Technically that was Cliffjumper's fault, but fortunately most 'bots had forgotten about that elusive fact.)

Ever since Longarm had been placed in charge, the protection of the scientists declined in priority. That was because Longarm represented a new idea that the protection of the masses outweighed the protection of a select minority. What he failed to remember was that Cliffjumper had been there in the old days, during the war, and he remembered Highbrow's rules. He would follow them even if the rationality of it all failed to register in the processors of Autobots.

When he entered the laboratory, Cliffjumper took in the scent of fresh oil and stale chemistry experiments that filled the entire complex. He looked around and spotted Wheeljack hunched over at the desk, absently examining a vial.

'Problems, Wheeljack,' Cliffjumper came forwards without invitation. 'Decepticons could flood through the Nexus at any time. I'm gonna need you and Perceptor to get to a safe house.'

'I know,' Wheeljack grumbled. 'If you don't mind, I was in the midst of deducing what would be the quickest and most efficient way to destroy this laboratory in the worst case scenario. You've interrupted my thoughts. Do you realize how many mathematical calculations I have to take into consideration when I'm trying to blow something up? It takes a lot of effort!'

'Should do what I do,' said Cliffjumper. 'Just point and shoot.'

'And we've all seen how effective that is in the past,' Wheeljack patted Cliffjumper on the head.

'This is serious. Decepticons have gone past the Rim and are currently waging war with the Elite Guard. I want you and Perceptor to get to a safe place.'

'What if they don't show up for the party?'

'Oh, they will. Trust me. I know.'

'Is anyone else evacuating?'

'Well...no...but they should!'

'Uh huh.' Wheeljack turned to Rosanna. 'Hey, Rosanna. Can I have your autograph?'

Rosanna laughed. 'I've given you a whole bunch already!'

'Time to set the record straight!' exclaimed Cliffjumper. 'First of all, Rosanna was never really famous.'

'The interviews and television appearances suggest otherwise.'

'That was all set up by Cybertron Intelligence so we could get a field agent to serve as a messenger between our deep cover agents! It was all going great until _someone_ - '

Rosanna shook her head as he cast her a penetrating, irritated expression.

' - blew her cover. AGAIN. The only thing Rosanna is talented in is sniping a 'con from three miles out and that's the only talent I'm concerned with!'

'Is that anyway to speak about a femme?' asked Rosanna. 'Especially in the third person?'

'I gotta admit I'm surprised,' said Wheeljack. 'I would've thought you'd be more offended.'

'I know he doesn't mean it. He's a lot nicer when he's had a few cans of oil, really.'

'Will someone please take this seriously?!' demanded Cliffjumper. 'Decepticons are attacking!'

'No, they're not,' said Rosanna. 'I hate to break it to you, but they're not. I know how much you want them to, but...they're not. Not here, anyways.'

'That is a linear assessment that operates under the presumption that if a threat is not physically present, then it does not exist.'

Only one Autobot could use that many four-syllable words in a single sentence. Perceptor had been silently working on the other side of the dome-shaped laboratory, completely silent until this moment, when he stepped onto a platform in the centre of the room and peered up to the star chart above their heads. For the first time, Cliffjumper recognize that the holographic interface was illustrating the advancement of Decepticon forces, with Cybertron clearly labelled and the border of the Galactic Rim easily highlighted.

'I am intercepting distress signals from across the Galactic Rim,' explained Perceptor. ' Some colonies have already ceased to project a continual radio field.'

'How many Autobots do we have fighting?' Cliffjumper demanded.

'That is difficult to calculate. Some colonies were judged as being high-risk and the civilian populations were evacuated, leaving behind a few squads of approximately twenty Autobots. Others which are currently being attacked by enemy forces did not anticipate an attack.'

Cliffjumper huffed. 'Back in the war, there _were_ no civilians...'

'Indeed. But that was millions of years ago. This is the present day.'

'What's the status of the Space Bridges?'

'Decepticons have yet to transwarp into the Nexus.'

'Well, they're in for a nasty surprise. Good thing Longarm rallied a unit right before – .'

'There is no unit.'

'What?'

'Aside from the mandatory Autotroopers guarding the vicinity of the Nexus, the only other life signal I am detecting is that of Longarm Prime. There is no unit of Autobot soldiers to greet any unwelcome visitors.'

'Dammit, what is he _doing_? He said he'd have a unit waiting. I gotta do everything myself around here...Perceptor, call up some reserves and get them to meet me at the Nexus.'

'You are not in the position to give orders.'

'Would you rather leave the Nexus unguarded?'

'...Very well.'

'It's nice to know that someone's taking this seriously. If there's any word of the 'cons breaking through the Nexus, I want you two to get out of here. Clear?'

'Understood,' acknowledged Perceptor.

'And Perceptor?'

'Yes?'

'I want you to monitor my comm. link and keep in touch at all times.'

Cliffjumper, dragging Rosanna behind him, returned to the hallway and transformed. His wheels screeched against the metal as he jolted forwards, down towards the vague direction of the Space Bridge Nexus. It would involve bursting into open territory where there was little cover in the event of an emergency, while the Space Bridges dotted the horizon. The corridors were oddly vacant, though he could occasionally hear an obligatory shout or a scientist passing on his usual business. He wondered how long usual business would continue. All he could think about was that fateful day when the war first came to Cybertron, when Cliffjumper – thrust together with a displaced racer – had first put his extensive training to use. In all the time that had past, he hadn't forgotten how to pull the trigger. He just hoped his aim was as good as it used to be.

At the passing memory of how the war had first led him to Blurr, he shook out all concern and remembered where he was. He and Rosanna returned to the elevator. Cliffjumper continually rammed his fist on the down arrow.

'C'mon,' he murmured.

'Are you okay, Cliffjumper?' asked Rosanna.

'I got a really bad feeling about this.'

'You have bad feelings about everything. Try to think about something else.'

Cliffjumper rummaged in his arsenal and pulled out a pistol. He extended it towards Rosanna.

'Take this,' Cliffjumper ordered.

'You know I don't like using guns,' said Rosanna, raising a hand. 'It's not the Autobot way.'

'That's what caused us to almost loose the first war, and if you ask me, it's the stupidest excuse to not carry ground guns. Take it.'

'I really don't think that – .'

'Rosanna?' he said, more softly this time. 'Please?'

She paused. 'If you insist...'

They were silent for the entirety of the journey to the Nexus, which was situated not too far from the Metroplex, at the adjacent space port. Back when it had first been built, it was for solely military use, but over the years it'd developed into a civilian trading centre for the Autobot Commonwealth. Thanks to Alpha Trion – the last sane council member in existence – it had been closed for the last few solar cycles as a precautionary measure. While the civilians were in an uproar about the closure and delayed flights, Cliffjumper took comfort that it was the only sensible thing anyone had done regarding the situation. Regardless, the old road connecting the Metroplex to the Nexus was still maintained and this was the shortcut he and Rosanna used to reach it, in the presence of vacant stars whose very silence betrayed the chaos occurring light years away. His spark pounded violently in his chest plate. This was the calm before the storm.

The Nexus was shaped rather like an arena, with the Space Bridges boarding the edge overlooking the very centre. Cliffjumper transformed upon his approach and analyzed the immediate area. He didn't even see an Autotrooper around. The only sign of life was Longarm hovering at a console, looking preoccupied. Cliffjumper checked to ensure that Rosanna was behind him. Her expression was blank, but she appeared uncharacteristically serious and raised her pistol to show that she would be behind him the whole time.

Cliffjumper descended the staircase and stormed up to Longarm, undeterred by his superior's significant advantage in height.

'What the hell are you doing?!' Cliffjumper demanded. 'We need all Autobots on alert and I don't even see a unit around to protect the Nexus! What if Megatron's entire army comes through?!'

Longarm didn't turn away from the console. 'I thought you were forbidden from carrying weapons.'

'I thought you were gathering a unit! Why is this place deserted?!'

'Stand down, Agent Cliffjumper, there was a unit but after reexamining – .'

'We need soldiers here,_ now_!' exclaimed Cliffjumper.

'We do not require one,' answered Longarm. His voice suddenly changed in that moment, though the change was gone as soon as Cliffjumper thought he heard it. 'Return to your post, Cliffjumper, I have this under control.'

'Forget it!' Cliffjumper transformed his arm into the illegal cannon he wasn't supposed to have and pointed it at Longarm's back. 'I'm relieving you of duty!'

'On what grounds?'

'On grounds of you being a crankcase! Step away from the console!'

Primus.

He'd been so, so hoping that he, himself, was the traitor. Hoping that he was under some ludicrous form of sickening re-purposing the Decepticons had been so fond of in their covert agents. Cliffjumper had been so hoping that this was some absurd misunderstanding and Longarm's back wasn't to him, his fingers gripping the edges of the console. Never before had he seen his voice so even, and generally the more even Longarm's tone, the more emotionally distressed he was. The more Decepticon-like he became.

All at once, a series of denials popped into Cliffjumper's mind. This was impossible. He'd been friends – well, _acquainted_ with Longarm since well before his take over of Cybertron Intelligence. When Highbrow went missing and the entire department seemed to crumble, one Autobot had risen from the ashes and preached order in the middle of chaos. Longarm. One Autobot had vowed to continue for the sake of their beloved commander. Longarm. One Autobot rose his hand, and a thousand more Autobots fell silent out of respect, not because he was a great military leader, but because he wasn't afraid to kneel down and get dirty with the rest of them. He wasn't afraid to shoot, but he would hesitate to raise his voice. When all lost faith in Cliffjumper, Longarm extended his welcome and got him out of countless trouble. Cliffjumper was overcome with surrealism. He couldn't be pointing his gun at the back of _Longarm_. Anyone but Longarm. Not the Autobot who'd rescued an entire department from certain extinction, back when they thought they were finished.

This couldn't be happening – an invasion, Longarm betraying them – things like this _didn't happen_ anymore. These things occurred at the far reaches of Cliffjumper's memory, back when betrayal was a daily occurrence among both Autobots and Decepticons. The war had been dependent on it, like it had also been dependent on the fearless and an individual's willingness to pull the trigger on friend or foe.

Cliffjumper arched his gun. 'I have a lot whole lot of reasons to shoot you in the back right now, _Longarm_, or should I even call you that? Give me a straight answer. Are you a traitor?'

'No,' answered Longarm.

To Cliffjumper, "no" always meant "yes".

'Not a traitor to the Decepticons, at the very least,' Longarm peered over his shoulder. 'And never to my true Lord.'

'I won't tell you again,' cautioned Cliffjumper. 'Step away from the console and put your servos were I can see them. Rosanna, cuff him...Rosanna, what the slag are you...'

His voice trailed off. Out of the corner of his eye, just to the corner of his peripheral vision in a place where he would have normally noticed the commotion, Rosanna was pointing the pistol at the side of his head.

'Rosanna?' he said he turned to look right down the barrel. 'Rosanna, what are you doing?!'

'My job,' she answered. While her optics focused on him, her words were directed at Longarm. 'What's the word? What's our next move?'

'Someone is transwarping from Space Bridge 687-030,' announced Longarm.

'How is that possible? Did you give them the codes?'

'No, Megatron's instructions were to wait, but I suppose they got impatient.'

A thousand curses flew through Cliffjumper's mind at once. He grabbed Rosanna's servo – the one holding the pistol – and slammed it into her face, before forcing her to the ground with sheer strength, disarming her, and aiming the weapon right at her faceplate. At the last minute he changed his target and a sudden blast erupted from the end of the pistol, sending a familiar, welcoming warmth up the length of his arm and deep into his soul.

At that moment, he seemed to remember something. The shot had knocked something back into him, like suddenly remembering an important event that had occurred a long time ago. A rush of sensations swept throughout him.

He remembered what war was like.

Using this familiarity to drive his following actions, Cliffjumper pressed a foot down on Rosanna's chest and took aim at the computer console. As the shot hit the console, the resulting explosion was enough to engulf Longarm in a cloud of thick, black smoke. He peered up to see a frail blue light starting to emerge from one of the nearest Space Bridges. Sure enough, he could see figures moving on the opposite side.

'Cliffjumper to Perceptor,' Cliffjumper opened a comm. link. 'We got Decepticons coming through the Nexus. Get me that unit right this instant or – oh, slag.'

Additional Space Bridges were beginning to illuminate the Nexus.

'Slaggit, we've got numerous Space Bridges lighting up,' said Cliffjumper. 'Raise the alarm and contact the Elite Guard. Looks like this is a bit more serious than I thought it was.'

'_Acknowledged_,' Perceptor responded.

Cliffjumper cradled a grenade in his free hand and prepared to throw it into the midst of the massive metal beings emerging from the Nexus. At the last possible minute, he looked down at Rosanna at his feet and saw that her entire colouration had changed into a sombre shade of light purple, with her blackened eyes hiding the slightest tint of red in them.

This was a _lot_ more serious than he thought it was going to be.


	20. No Greater Evil, Part II

_**An Important Note from the Author**_

_Dear Readers,_

_I have a folder in my computer I called "Stasis Fanfiction"._

_I called it "Stasis Fanfiction" because I never felt like I actually left fanfiction behind permanently. For four years, it was an integral and vital part of my writing development. Now I find myself in university studying English Literature. I'm currently writing a book myself, but it's slow going and ill-planned and needs to be plotted more carefully. But, what with so many ideas in development, and few actually being implemented, I find myself without a writing project, without a project where I could develop my skills._

_Then a little voice whispered in my head, "What about Good Men?"_

_I don't think I ever intended to give up on this story. My muse never left me, it just went into stasis._

_That said, these updates don't mean a return to fanfiction. I'm literally on my last legs in the fanfiction business and I don't plan to ever post a new story. But I have my old ones, the ones that meant so much for me to finish that I never forgot about them._

_Transformers: Prime, I felt, was a disappointing addition to the Transformers universe, with lacklustre storytelling, but TFA was something special, in that it was defiant. It broke so many rules about what the fans thought Transformers should be, and though the character designs were less than sublime even when you got used to them, the storytelling made the series. The fact that it was so readily replaced by a cartoon that felt like G1's attempt to be edgy is disappointing to say the least. Let's face it, the G1 cartoon was never edgy. It was ridiculous and that's why we love it. TFA introduced new storytelling ideas, and then they were swiftly forgotten._

_For these reasons, I'm resuming "Good Men". Rodimus and "Team Athenia" meant a lot to me, and I still have ideas about adventures they can undertake. It's going to be a long, arduous process that may never be finished, but I'm making an effort at it. There won't be regular updates – my life is hectic as it is, and in addition school, work, and planning my novel, I'm drawing/writing a fan comic, and in the process of planning a webcomic. I put aside some time during the late hours of night to write, and these are the best times to get serious work done. It's the only time I have._

_Thank you for reading._

_-Fastern_

* * *

**No Greater Evil, Part II**

It was a firefight.

Cliffjumper pressed his back against the makeshift cover, squashed in between a pair of Autotroopers whose voices were lost in the various shots flying over their heads. Just like the old days. Just like the old days when he used to find himself locked in battle with comrades-in-arms. Except he didn't know the Autobots he was with, and he was in the last place where he wanted to fight.

He glanced over to where he'd last seen Shockwave. Slagging traitor. He didn't know where he'd vanished to, but that was something he seemed to be good at.

When the Decepticons came pouring through, he'd been joined by a number of fellow Autobots, mostly Autotroopers. At least they had the experience of handling weapons. Others were just ones that happened to be nearby and were doing their civic duty, or as much as their salaries demanded. Their only advantage was that the Decepticons they were against were obviously new recruits and the ill-trained, used as cannon fodder before the real warriors entered the scene. With the two factions positioned strategically on either side of the Nexus, it was really a matter of who would make the push to overcome the others.

He was going to push.

He abandoned cover. Several voices called him back, but he didn't listen.

Cliffjumper tossed a grenade right as the first Decepticons hit the ground. An explosion rocked the clearing and he barely had enough time to assess any possible form of cover, of which there was none. No problem. That would just make this a little more interesting. He rushed forwards, and before the Decepticons could register his sudden approach, he'd slapped a small, hand held device on one of their legs and dived out of the way. An explosion of light sliced through the air. Cliffjumper didn't pause to examine the results; the moment he set his sights on a second pair now emerging, he fired two shots and their heads removed themselves from their bodies.

He dipped his head slightly, just enough to avoid an attempted shot from yet another group of Decepticons. Only this group was different. This group held themselves with the kind of organized respect that the younger ones lacked. He briefly spotted Oil Slick (should've recognized him by the acidic stench), and then Cyclonus, and then Blackout, and then several other 'cons who he recognized from file photos and profiles that had passed over his desk over the years. Finally, all that general knowledge about the big players was coming to use, but none initiated such a reaction from him than he saw who stood at their forefront. It was worse than peering into the face of Megatron himself.

Strika was in the lead.

Quite a bit of profanity went rolling through his mind. Strika the General of Destruction was a good acquaintance to any survivor of the war. Most of the time rather than sitting back and planning like most generals, she led a squadron right into action and ended up having the most enemy casualties. Cliffjumper gave her a bonus for that. If he was ever in a position of power, he as sure as the Pits wouldn't settle for sitting behind a desk. And as Strika looked across to where he was standing, a dawning expression of terror and realization crossed her normally stoic faceplate.

'It's Cliffjumper!' she shouted. 'Quick, shoot him! SHOOT HIM!'

Cliffjumper twisted to avoid the first few shots, but soon they started raining down on him like no tomorrow. He was blinded and dazed by vibrating light boiling hot to the touch. Gritting his teeth, he fired into the fray, but with his vision properly blurred by the sudden activity, he was incapable of discerning targets. Cliffjumper moved to the 'con he'd just killed and held the shell up in front of his own. Still, the force of the shots forced him back several feet, until he was right next to a collapsed Decepticon unfortunately caught in the crossfire. The shell was large enough that he could take cover.

Safely in cover, Cliffjumper reloaded, took a deep breath, and brandished the rocket launcher. He had to knock out those Space Bridges, but it wasn't as simple as pulling the plug. With the barrel safely nestled on top of the shell, he peered out across the space to see that at least twenty Decepticons were perched opposite of him and unleashing a steady hail of gunfire. It was a smaller number than he'd anticipated, but just enough to be a major issue.

Fortunately he'd been prepared for this kind of emergency situation for quite some time. All he needed to do was make sure the Decepticons didn't leave the Nexus.

'Fire at will!' Cliffjumper barked at the nearest Autobots. 'Keep them pinned down!'

Just as he said this, the Space Bridge before them seemed to bulk.

A mass of black swarmed out of swirling blue energy erupting in the sky. At once, he thought it was a large Decepticon – but then the insignia came into view and he saw the blasters hanging haphazardly from the bulkhead, pointing directly down on their position. It was a ship, hastily pasted together from odds and ends, but nevertheless an armed ship.

He felt the blasts before they impacted on their position, heavy and hot and reeking of a stench rather like brimstone. Then his sensors screamed all at once. Loud, static, white noise blurred out every sensation. Suddenly he started thinking about Blurr, and that time they were stranded on a blistering planet orbiting terrifyingly close to a neighbouring sun. Then he started thinking about finding the gun, which had been ripped from his hand.

Cliffjumper's cooling units worked in overtime, gears grinding together as he became aware that he was feeling the ground for his gun. Where was his gun? There. He raised it, struggling to regain awareness of his surroundings. Truth be told, he had no idea where he was and what he was doing. With his last battle a fading memory, his senses were forgetting how to react instantaneously, and with every movement be feared he wasn't able to see a Decepticon brandishing his weapons, pulling the trigger.

Then the noise hit him.

He was still behind the barrier erected between themselves and the 'cons. The Autotrooper that had been at his left shoulder was gone, possibly vaporized, and the other lay nearby, bleeding an unnatural amount of energon. Cliffjumper ignored them both and scrambled to find the nearest cover. He found himself in the company of Autobots who had obviously just arrived at the scene, their optics wide with fright and having never experienced the full rush of a Decepticon firefight. As one unfortunate mech stuck his head out from over the top, a well-timed shot hit him, and his chassis – turning grey – twisted back and struck the ground.

'Don't stick your head over the barrier,' Cliffjumper advised the nearest Autobot.

'R – right,' agreed the Autobot.

'_Kup to Cliffjumper._'

This was the last thing he needed.

'Make it quick!' Cliffjumper barked. He armed his rifle, braced it on top of the shelter, and fired blindly into the crowd of Decepticons at the far end of the trench.

'_Cut the scrap_,' Kup's voice replied evenly. Nothing ever seemed to phase him. '_I need to get in touch with Longarm, but he's not responding to his comm link. Where is he_?'

Cliffjumper grunted and ducked back down.

'_...Are you in the middle of that chaos going on down there_?'

'Damn straight! As for Longarm, you'll be happy to hear that Longarm was never Longarm! It was Shockwave in disguise the whole time!'

'_You've got to be kidding_.'

'Do you think I like it?! He must've been in deep cover!'

'_Not exactly what I was hoping to hear...'_

A brandishing shot went flaring across the open space. It slammed right into the head of the Autotrooper at Cliffjumper's elbow and he ducked back down.

'Dammit,' he grunted. 'Why aren't you down here? We could use back up! Strika and her cronies just came through!'

_'Well, that's promising. My servos tied. Politics. I need you to report to the command centre so we can talk strategy.'_

'Forget it!'

'_Cliffjumper, with Longarm gone, so to speak, we need a commander for Intel. You're the best qualified to fill that position right now._'

'I'm not leaving! Someone has to hold the Decepticons here!'

'_We're having all available troops congregate on that position. We need you up here_.'

'Last time I'm saying this: NO!'

'_Cliffjumper_,' Kup pressed. Cliffjumper rolled his optics; he could tell by the tone that Kup was on the edge of his patience. '_Sometimes being a commander means you have to hold back and let other Autobots take the damage for you. It's not easy, but it's the way it is. We need you up here to organize_.'

Cliffjumper glanced at Rosanna's unconscious form, then at the Autotrooper that had taken the place of his deceased comrade. He sighed heavily.

'I'll get there when I can,' he said. 'I have something I need to take care of first.'

'_Glad to hear you've come to your senses. Make it quick_.'

Cliffjumper bent back down into the shelter. He turned to the agent. 'I've been called to the Metroplex. Keep the Decepticons grounded here.'

'Yes, sir,' the agent saluted him.

'And if you call me "sir" again, I'll kick your fanbelt all the way to the Galactic Rim!' Cliffjumper barked. 'Cover me.'

Cliffjumper leaned down and grabbed Rosanna's unconscious form. Instinct. He didn't know. He just knew that he was leaning down and grabbing her and not even thinking about her having pointed a gun at his head not too long ago.

Then, he was running. He slipped up the road leading into the Nexus, feeling blasts of gunfire barely grazing his chassis. He didn't look back to see if an Autobot covering him had been shot and killed; frankly he didn't care. It was all in the line of duty. Those heads rested on Kup, and his insistence on having Cliffjumper physically present for a debriefing.

Cliffjumper moved on. Occasionally Autobots rushed passed him in their hurry to get to the Nexus, not knowing that they were going headlong into their graves. He pausing at every corner to ensure that no one was following, with a gun in one hand and Rosanna slumped over the other. He paused frequently to readjust his grip on her; this wasn't the easiest task, but the alternative of leaving her behind was unthinkable and unacceptable. He trudged along at an awkward pace and didn't pause or flinch at the explosions sounding overhead, causing the tunnel to shudder dangerously. As he went along several Autobots wielding their respective weapons rushed by him in eagerness to participate in the battle, unaware of the fruitlessness of their efforts. As they passed he gave them vacant warnings of what to expect. He, however, focused intently on where he needed to be.

Despite every instinct telling him to rush back and leap into the heat of battle, he was drawn back to his current course knowing that most of the high ranking Autobots were out on the Galactic Rim and Rosanna was unconscious over his shoulder.

Or, she was. Up until she stirred.

Cliffjumper threw her unceremoniously to the floor and drew up his gun, aiming directly at her head. Her complexion had returned to normal.

'Get up and put your servos where I can see them!' Cliffjumper roared.

'Cliffjumper?' Rosanna swayed and staggered to her feet. 'What happened? Did Longarm knock me out?'

'Servos where I can see them!' Cliffjumper demanded, his gun poised.

'Why are you pointing that at me?' Rosanna asked in a tone that betrayed that this wasn't the first time he'd directed a gun at her face.

'Servos up!'

'CJ – .'

'Last chance!'

'What's going – ?'

Cliffjumper pulled the trigger. Rosanna visibly flinched as the shot grazed the side of her head and slammed into the wall behind her.

'Oops,' Cliffjumper glared at her. 'I _missed_.'

They were at a standstill. He did his best not to feel too sympathetic towards her visibly confused expression; but the fact of the matter was that he didn't like having guns pointed at him, especially by someone who he had confided and trusted for far too long. Slowly, Rosanna complied with his demands and raised her servos.

'Walk ahead of me,' Cliffjumper demanded.

'Where are we – ?'

'Shut up!'

Rosanna hesitantly started walking.

'Okay, CJ, game over,' said Rosanna. 'What's going on?'

'You _know_ what's going on.'

'Cliffjumper, if you know me, you know that I _never_ know what's going on!'

He didn't respond and they continued in relative silence, meeting nobody until they came to an abandoned staircase clearly used for maintenance purposes. He forced Rosanna up first and entered the deepest levels of the Metroplex, leaving behind the sounds of the battle, though the weight of it never elevated.

* * *

Cliffjumper handed custody of Rosanna over to the next Intel agent he met, explained the situation (while Rosanna looked on, quite perplexed), and then ordered her to be confined in the brig. Official agents were sent to interrogate her. Cliffjumper headed right to the centre of all the action.

The command centre was place he rarely had the privilege of entering and which largely sat, stagnant, since the Great War. However, he went to it with a specific purpose in mind, which was good because his mind was ravaged with worries, concerns, and general discontent. But mostly it was just naked hurt that sent him emotionally careening whenever he found himself stealing a moment of privacy in a vacant hall. One of his best friends was potentially dead. The other was definitely a traitor. And for the first time in a long time, Cliffjumper realized that his greatest fear had come true: he was alone, and his own impatience and stupidity allowed him to back into this situation. Before he went to the command centre he hid in an empty room and tried to get a hold of himself. He trembled and not from the experience of battle – war never made him tremble.

Eventually, though, the time for hiding was over and he ascended to the highest reaches of Fortress Maximus. The command centre was surprisingly vacant, but alarms were sounding everywhere and whenever he caught a glimpse of an idle Autobot he ordered them to grab a weapon and hold off the Decepticons. It was the only plan they had. But when he reached the command centre, it was far from empty. Perceptor and Wheeljack were already there, and accompanying them was a surly Autobot Cliffjumper hadn't seen for too many stellar cycles: Kup.

'There you are,' Kup barked the moment Cliffjumper stormed in.

'No time for pleasantries, Kup,' Cliffjumper snapped.

'Charming as ever...'

'You're one to talk!'

'Knock it off!' Wheeljack intervened. 'CJ, there've been some rumours floating around. Is it true that Rosanna's a traitor?'

'Word travels fast around here,' Cliffjumper remarked. 'Look, I don't know. I have agents trying to figure that out. More importantly, though, is that Longarm was never Longarm. It was Shockwave.'

'I can't believe that slagger has been right under our oflaculty sensors all this time!' exclaimed Kup. 'Tell me you arrested him!'

'You don't just "arrest" Shockwave!' snapped Cliffjumper. 'The Decepticons came careening out of the Space Bridges and he disappeared. As for Rosanna...well, I don't know exactly what's going on, but from initial appearances, she's a Decepticon deep cover agent.'

He was met with silence.

'I'm so sorry, CJ,' Wheeljack murmured.

'Sorry for what?' he demanded. 'She's just a 'con! She deserves to die like the rest of them!'

'The Autobots don't work that way,' said Wheeljack. 'We need a plan.'

'All available personnel are holding the 'cons at the Space Bridge Nexus, but it won't be enough,' said Kup. 'The Decepticons have obviously prepared for this. We need to take drastic measures.'

'I'm more interested in where the security breach came from,' said Cliffjumper. 'The 'cons couldn't have gotten through without security codes.'

As if anticipating this response, Kup handed him a datapad.

'What's this?' Cliffjumper asked.

'Transwarp records,' answered Kup. 'The first Decepticons came in through Space Bridge 687-081, but the codes were transmitted from 687-030.

'What?' Wheeljack piped up. 'Wait, 687-030. Wasn't that Athenia?'

'Yeah, it was,' Kup replied.

'Red...'

'What was that?'

'Never mind, just...some Autobots Percy and I knew was in that area,' Wheeljack said quickly.

'Same here, but their fate isn't a priority right now,' said Kup. 'We'll untangle this mess once we figure out what to do about the Decepticons here on Cybertron. Wheeljack, are those bombs still planted underneath the Nexus?'

'Woah, wait, "bombs"?!' repeated Cliffjumper.

'Yup,' Wheeljack nodded approvingly. 'Bombs. Big ones. In the maintenance tunnels underneath the Space Bridge Nexus.'

'When – how come there are bombs underneath the Nexus?!'

'It's a precautionary measure we took during the big one,' explained Wheeljack. 'Perceptor and I discretely placed them there under the orders of Ultra Magnus. When the war ended, Ultra Magnus ordered them dismantled, but Perceptor, Kup, and I agreed that it would be more efficient to leave them where they were.'

We need to hold the 'cons at the Nexus long enough to detonate the bombs. How long will it take you, Wheeljack?'

'Will have to do it manually. It's been a while...no telling what condition those bombs are in. Any slight error and we could end up destroying the city. I think we'll have to go check them ourselves to see if it's a plausible idea.'

'Then we're going to blow up the Nexus?' asked Cliffjumper.

'I formally request that this group takes into consideration that if we do destroy the Nexus, it could take years to reestablish connections in the Cybertronian territory and could permanently cripple relations with distant colonies,' Perceptor expanded. 'Travel would be increasingly vulnerable to attacks by dissidents and Decepticons, alike.'

'The only other way would be to lock down the Space Bridges,' said Wheeljack. 'We can't do that without authority from Ultra Magnus and he's not here right now.'

'Couldn't we hack our own systems?' Cliffjumper suggested.

'It would take too long. I hate to say it, but destroying the Nexus may be our only option to control the situation before the Decepticons get into the city, and we can't risk waiting for the Elite Guard.'

'Okay, the decision's been made,' said Kup. 'Wheeljack and Perceptor, get into the maintenance shafts and check on those bombs. I'm heading to the Nexus to give the Autobots there a hand. Cliffjumper, with Long – _Shockwave_ – disposed of, I'm placing you temporarily in charge of Cybertron Intelligence and all its resources.'

'Fine,' said Cliffjumper. 'I'll be on the front lines shooting things.'

'No, you aren't,' snapped Kup. 'Rosanna may know more about what's going on than we do. Interrogate her.'

'Forget it!'

'Go interrogate her, Cliffjumper!'

Were this any other time Cliffjumper would have protested. But all protests were lost and – perhaps sensing the need for a private chat between the two of them – Wheeljack and Perceptor left the room.

'She's from your department,' said Kup when they were alone. 'She's turned her back on everything we stand for.'

'She claims she doesn't remember!'

'You can't possibly believe that. No, I'm not letting you get away with this.'

Cliffjumper stared at his feet.

'Are the rumours about you and her...true?' Kup asked.

'What?!' Cliffjumper jumped. 'No!'

'You're the worst liar in the history of the Autobots. You've never been able to lie and that hasn't changed now.'

'We're not anything,' Cliffjumper protested. 'It's just..._casual_! She's a casual friend – no, acquaintance!'

'You realize she could be responsible for killing your best friend?'

'What are you talking about?'

'_Blurr_.'

'You think I don't know that? It doesn't make it any easier!'

'You need to be the one to question her.'

'I'm not going to have my personal life paraded in front of the whole department! If I question her, it'll come up!'

'So shut off the cameras and microphones and have a nice spark-to-spark in _private_. Do I have to keep coming up with solutions for you or what?'

Cliffjumper forced himself to meet Kup's gaze. He didn't want this old bastard to be right, but the more he analyzed he words, the more he realized that he was right. Kup didn't wait for an answer, though. He slapped him on the shoulder and left the control room, leaving Cliffjumper to the mercy of his own indecision.

* * *

_Can't do this. Can't do this. Can't do this._

Cliffjumper paced impatiently in an abandoned corridor, listening to the vague sounds of trampling feet. Every inch of him was screaming that he was wasting time, that progress had to be made.

Then, like an insect drawn to his doom by an eerie glow, he could no longer keep himself from the brig where Rosanna was being held. The first Autobot he met stood just outside, solemn, grave, and flinching at every distant gunfire that reached these deep recesses of the Metroplex.

'Have you made any progress?' Cliffjumper asked.

'What?' the agent frowned.

'Have you made any progress with Rosanna?'

'And who are _you_ to ask?'

'...Cliffjumper?'

'Oh, scrap!' the agent went rigid and saluted. 'My apologies, sir. I only just go the memo from Kup...Is it true about Longarm?'

'Unfortunately, yes, but we have bigger problems. Have you made any progress with Rosanna?'

'She claims she doesn't remember anything. Well, at first, she didn't. Her behaviour has been irrational and it's near impossible to tell whether or not she's being straight with us. However, we've been keeping the pressure on and cracks are starting to show.'

'Good. I'm going in.'

'Yes, sir.'

Cliffjumper stepped into the interrogation room. There were two agents shadowing Rosanna, who sat in a chair in the very centre, her faceplate in her servos.

'We know you're responsible for this!' shouted the nearest agent. 'If you don't want to face execution for the atrocities you've committed, you better start talking!'

'I don't know what happened!' Rosanna argued. The strength in her voice was surprising. 'I don't know what you're going on about, but I swear – I _swear_ – I had – I had no idea! I don't know what's going on!...Cliffjumper!'

The agents turned. They simultaneously saluted.

'Any progress?' Cliffjumper barked at the nearest agent.

'No, sir,' he replied. 'She claims she doesn't know anything.'

'Alright, then. Out.'

'Um...could you repeat that, sir?'

'I said get out.'

'But that isn't exactly procedure – .'

'This whole mess isn't "procedure". Get out.'

The agents silently filed by. The door slid shut behind them. He didn't turn. He could sense Rosanna's spirit crumbling. Finally, he gathered his courage to use a datapad to mute the microphones, cut the camera feed, and seal the door. It was only when he knew that they were truly alone that he turned to face her.

Betrayal gnawed at his spirit. Betrayal. He felt the ground start to waver underneath his feet, though he knew it was only in his imagination. But finally he gathered the courage to break the omnious silence that had befallen them.

'How _could_ you?' he said quietly.

Rosanna peered up. 'Cliffjumper – .'

'I trusted you! How could I have been so _stupid_?! I practically handed classified information to you and now – and now _this_?!'

'You think I meant for this to happen?!' Rosanna argued. 'Cliffjumper, I didn't know! It's like I have an intruder in here and – I don't know. Nothing is making sense.'

'Is this the part where you deny what happened? Call me a liar? Use the insanity plea?'

'No,' she drew her breath. 'No, it did happen, didn't it? I can see it in your optics and I can feel it...Even if I didn't directly cause it – I was there.'

'I've had it checked. You were the one who sent the Decepticons information concerning the deep cover agents. _You_ killed them!'

'I KNOW!' Rosanna shouted. 'Dammit, Cliffjumper, Blurr was my friend, too!'

'You think this is just about Blurr?! This is about the good Autobots offline because of you! I should have you decommissioned – permanently! You know what Cybertron Intelligence does behind closed doors and there's nothing to hold me back! No rules! No regulations! Not even Ultra Magnus could stop me! I'm free to do whatever I want! No restrictions!'

Rosanna looked at him carefully. 'Except me.'

Cliffjumper froze.

He sank to his knees in front of her, clutching the sides of her chairs and looking into her optics.

'Tell me everything,' he begged.

'I don't know what's happening,' Rosanna croaked. 'I've been...having blanks in my memory. Big, empty spots where I don't know where I have been or what I have been doing. I'll...I'll leave the office and the next thing I know I'll be standing in my quarters, drenched in oil and energon...'

'You should have come to me sooner. I would have helped you! Maybe we could've stopped all of this!'

'I couldn't.'

'Why not?'

'I don't know. That isn't a very good explanation, but every time I thought about it...it was like there was a locked door. I slammed my fists against it until...'

'You can't just tell me you have amnesia. You know more than you're letting on.'

'I just thought – .'

'Where did the Decepticons come in?'

'Cliffjumper, I can't.'

'Yes, you can. You're an Autobot. What are their plans? _Where is Megatron_?!'

'Megatron is dead.'

'Don't give me that. He's alive. Where is he? Is he coming to Cybertron?'

Rosanna clutched her head. 'I can't...'

'Where is he?!'

She didn't answer.

He grunted in frustration, rose to his feet, and briefly turned away. 'You're not making it easier to choose between my duty and you, Rosanna. I have to do what I – .'

He stopped short. As he swung back around to face her, he no longer saw Rosanna sitting in the chair.

Well, it _was_ her, but at the same time it wasn't. Instead of the bubbly, pink femme he knew, there was instead a Decepticon with a distinct dark purple hue to her chassis, her eyes fading from blue to deceiving red. At once, he drew out a pistol and aimed it at her.

'Who...or _what_...are you?' Cliffjumper demanded.

'Flip Sides,' she responded.

'You're dead!'

'I wouldn't do that if I were you. Your Rosanna is still in here and I think you already know that. Put that down.'

Cliffjumper kept the pistol poised. 'Start talking.'

'Pistol down, Cliffjumper,' the Decepticon directed, 'or I say nothing. Let's have a civil conversation.'

He paused, for the longest time, but he couldn't help but be compelled by her presence. He lowered his weapon, though by no means did he relax his guard.

'Rosanna, as you know her, doesn't exist,' Flip Sides explained gravely.

'Not possible. I was just talking to her.'

'Rosanna is a program, a projection perfectly created to interact and emulate the Autobot ideal. I'm always watching, in the background, in perfect control of her every action. She was created to be installed in a deep cover agent to provide information, but she's almost too perfect. The program is vigorous...eventually it starts to fight and gain a semblance of self-awareness. I always knew it would be a one way trip.'

'What was your mission?'

'Our primary objective was to plant seeds of distrust in the Autobot ranks and collect information regarding your own deep-cover agents.'

'So you _are_ responsible for the missing agents.'

'Yes. I was also a critical player when it came to the murder of Highbrow Prime.'

Cliffjumper fell quiet. '...You were...?'

'Well, it wasn't me, precisely - I just supplied the information and lured him into the trap. Shockwave was the one who struck the final blow.'

'Are there any other Decepticon deep-cover agents?'

'If there are, I don't know about them; our system works the same way yours does. Our deep-cover agents can't recognize each other for security purposes. Shockwave was our liaison here on Cybertron.'

'And Megatron? Where is he?'

'I'm not entirely sure. His disappearance was as much a mystery to the Decepticons as it was to the Autobots, and his reappearance was an even bigger surprise. I'm not sure if Shockwave knows where he is; if he does – or did – then he wouldn't share it. I'm a subordinate and it would be inappropriate to share such vital information. I did the extent of my job.'

Gripped with the sudden urge to move around, Cliffjumper started pacing around the room, never taking his optics off of her.

'Decepticons are currently pouring in through the Space Bridge Nexus,' said Cliffjumper. 'What do you know about their plan of attack? What's the purpose of this?'

'Things..._aren't_...going to plan,' explained Flip Sides. 'It has gone awry. Strika has disobeyed orders.'

'Oh?'

'Strika was supposed to wait until Megatron gave her a signal indicating that he was ready to transwarp, and then initiate a mass attack on his signal. Unfortunately, Megatron has gone silent. Strika jumped the gun.'

Cliffjumper tested the level of eye contact she maintained. He narrowed his optics. 'Why are you telling me all this?'

'I'm not really telling you anything,' said Flip Sides. 'Just confirming you what you already suspect or repeating what you already know.'

He crcled Flip Sides. She stared at the floor, fists clenched tightly.

'Wait, wait, wait,' Cliffjumper stopped. 'Shouldn't someone come..._rescue_ you?'

'I don't expect anything so glamourous. Decepticons value each member of their ranks highly since there are so few of us now, but...' she paused. 'Well, these are desperate times...and I'm near my end, anyways, with the program gaining dominance over my personality. In the last few stellar cycles Rosanna has been relentless in trying to erase me, fighting for control over this form...Soon I must offline myself to prevent her from gaining total control and wrecking havoc among our ranks by releasing our intel operations. Besides, I wasn't good enough to evade capture, so Shockwave would consider that a mark against my character. To him, I wouldn't be worth fighting against. I am also equally capable of breaking out of this place should I wish.'

'So why haven't you?'

'Because I would be expected to kill you in the process...and I would never forgive myself.'

Cliffjumper turned his back on her.

'I was fully conscious while the program was in control,' Flip Sides continued. 'I'm a part of it.'

Cliffjumper didn't reply. He focused on the wall. The wall, so wonderfully undecorated and uncomplicated.

'No, you aren't,' he denied. 'You're just some double agent – .'

'Rosanna and I are one. We cannot exist without each other. Her decisions are mine.'

Another lengthy pause.

'It wouldn't work,' Flip Sides murmured softly. 'I'm a Decepticon You're an Autobot, and not just any Autobot. You're Cliffjumper, the Autobot who Decepticons fear to speak of.'

'You think _that's_ what this is about?!' he chortled cruelly.

'I know that's what it's about. It's the only reason you walked in here.'

He glared at Flip Sides challengingly. 'What does Rosanna think?'

'Rosanna doesn't think. She's a program designed for the sole purpose of infiltration.'

'What do you think Cybertronians are? We're all just basically a whole bunch of programs! We're technology! Other species argue that we aren't even alive! If this "program" is complex enough to make decisions and formulate her own thoughts, then she – .'

'She isn't sentient. That's the universal acknowledgement of life, isn't it? Rosanna isn't aware of herself. "She" has always just been an extension of me. That's how I kept in control.'

'So everything that happened was "just business"?'

'I wish I could say that it was – that's what any good Decepticon would claim. But Lord Megatron has always advocated that if we didn't believe in our cause, that if our actions weren't true, then we shouldn't be a Decepticon. The Autobots, on the other servo, don't care if you believe in their cause – only that you fight for it...It's an interesting paradox, isn't it?'

'Yeah, yeah, I've heard the paradox before,' Cliffjumper waved vaguely in her direction.

'Decepticons know when to act and how to plan,' Flip Sides straightened herself, still not meeting his optics. 'Autobots, on the other hand, tend to be unpredictable and unreliable. I want to know what you plan to do with me now that you know.'

'Obviously you have a plan for that, too,' Cliffjumper countered.

'If you're good at your job, you're going to arrange for my execution. If you're exceptionally good at your job, you'll kill me right here.'

'...And if I'm not?'

'I will remain alive and you will cower in the face of your own weakness, because Rosanna is the only thing you can't bare to loose.'

Cliffjumper averted his gaze and didn't reply.

The Decepticon colours gripping Flip Sides started to fade to a pale pink. The program had reasserted itself, but Rosanna did not meet his optics. She averted her gaze, her expression tortured at best and focused on the ground. That's when Cliffjumper realized that Rosanna knew it all, that she and Flip Sides were fighting for control, now fully aware of each other's presence and unable to do anything about it.

Silently he left the room to the agents waiting outside.

'I'm going to join Wheeljack and Perceptor and handle the situation at the Space Bridge Nexus.' Cliffjumper said to the nearest agent.

'What about..._her_?' the agent questioned.

'Keep her in custody. Something isn't right here, and I want to know what it is. Oh, and if you so much as put one dent in her...it's your head.'

'Yes, sir,' the agent saluted him.

Cliffjumper readied his weapons, took a deep breath, and marched back through the Metroplex, but amidst the chaos he perceived existence as being painfully quiet, save for Flip Sides' haunting voice penetrating the shadows.


	21. No Greater Evil, Part III

**No Greater Evil, Part III**

Shadows chased him.

Cliffjumper hastily ducked in between a set of pipes and landed in an abandoned trench buried under hundreds of thousands of years of construction. Unknown fluids leaked from the pipes he'd just navigated through, only retreating when he flicked his headlights on and charged forwards. He didn't care if he drew attention. If anything, he relished in every activity that wasn't related to Rosanna or that didn't remind him of her. Up there, in her presence, he was the Autobot that failed to see two double agents masquerading right before him. Down here, he was the freshly appointed commander of Cybertron Intelligence, and he had a job to do.

He transformed and whisked away into the service streets, florescent streetlights shuddering with every quake gently rocking the Metroplex. Bars of frail light flickered overhead, giving away to the buildings constructing the labyrinth. He was lost. So very lost, underneath the stars and impossible recesses fixating into every corner of Cybertron. How could he have not known about these streets, when countless files and maps had passed underneath his watchful optics for countless stellar cycles?

At last, he saw the Autobots he was searching for. After rounding the next corner, he nearly drove right by Wheeljack and Perceptor. They stood helplessly at the side of the service road. Wheeljack was digging his way deep into the recesses Cliffjumper shied away from, while Perceptor scanning the area with a blank expression of fruitless determination.

Cliffjumper transformed, skidded, and then hurried back to join them. As he did so, he noticed of the fresh corpses of two Decepticons littering the street. He deliberately stepped on one's face on his way to meet the scientists.

'What's the situation?' Cliffjumper asked.

'We're fine, thanks,' Wheeljack retaliated. 'Just had to shoot our way through a few stragglers. No big deal.'

'Will it work? Are the bombs in tact?'

Cliffjumper looked curiously at Wheeljack's wide-eyed, static expression.

'What's with you?' Cliffjumper demanded.

'The bombs aren't here.'

He felt the floor sinking out underneath him. It took all of Cliffjumper's willpower to remain standing, followed by a surge of frustration.

'What do you mean "they're not here?!"' Cliffjumper exclaimed. 'Bombs don't just get up and walk away!'

'I'm not suggesting they did!' exclaimed Wheeljack. 'They're just not here!'

'They have to be! Didn't you even put monitoring devices on them? You know, in case someone moved them?'

'We did,' Perceptor confirmed. 'But we did not receive notification about the explosives being removed.'

'These weren't your run-of-the-mill bombs!' Wheeljack continued. 'These are highly advanced, _untested_ explosives encrypted with rigid security measures! You don't just press a button and arm them! You have to be an expert to get them working.'

Cliffjumper struggled to regain control over his chaotic thoughts, switching from one worst-case scenario to another. They all involved a deafening explosion that toppled him head-over-heels and loosing all sense of reality.

'Let's think about this calmly for a nanoclick,' he said, forcing himself to sound reasonable. Maybe if he tried to sound calm, he would become calm as a consequence. 'How many bombs were under the Nexus?'

'Just two,' said Wheeljack. 'We already checked where we left the other one and she's not here. The second is supposed to be attached to the valve over here.'

Wheeljack indicated a mechanism attached to the pipe. The best Cliffjumper could figure it out, it controlled pressure for whatever substance flowed through them.

'What do they look like?' asked Cliffjumper.

'They are – they _were_ disguised to look like a natural part of the pipelines,' said Wheeljack. 'Sneaked them in when they were rebuilding this part of the city right after the Great War. No one knew the difference. They fit around the pipe, you see. Looked like these things.'

Wheeljack pointed to monitoring devices that encircled other pipelines, a natural, indistinguishable part of the environment.

'Can't remove those things without risking a loss in pressure,' Wheeljack explained. 'Loss in pressure means a big detonation somewhere else, unless you got real quick servos. Seemed the best way to dissuade anyone from tampering with it.'

'You don't think a maintenance worker could have taken it off without knowing?' Cliffjumper asked.

'We had monitoring devices,' Wheeljack asserted. 'We would have known!'

All at once, static shouted out in Cliffjumper's communications link. He instinctively jerked, as if that would help alleviate the growing sound of buzzing. But it faded quickly, and from the static came a crisp, calm voice he was all too familiar with.

'_I knew you would try to locate those explosives_,' said Shockwave.

'Dammit, it's him!' Cliffjumper exclaimed. 'Shockwave's on my comm link.'

He quickly gestured to Perceptor. Perceptor nodded. If Perceptor could trace the signal, it would be a matter of congregating on the Decepticon's position. All Cliffjumper had to do was keep the traitor talking for long enough while Perceptor attempted to trace the link.

'What do you want, Shockwave?' demanded Cliffjumper.

'_Cliffjumper, your ability to interfere in every matter that does not involve you never ceases to amaze me_,' mused Shockwave. '_You managed to be as predictable as you've always been and went directly to the bombs planted here eons ago.'_

'Why are you contacting me?' Cliffjumper asked.

'_Because despite myself, I believe in a fair fight, and I understand that my ability to successfully escape from this doomed attack is by providing a distraction that will lead you away from me_.'

'...What did you do with the bombs, Shockwave?'

'_What any sensible Decepticon would do. I placed them under the Metroplex and armed them_.'

His eyes wandered. His vocal processor jammed. Somewhere, far away, he could imagine Shockwave glaring with a penetrating, solid eye, not flinching. Never flinching. How Cliffjumper wished he never flinched like Shockwave; how he wished that, in that moment, he had a word that would embody every hatred he felt towards this Decepticon. Now, he realized that he hadn't spoken for a long time, and Wheeljack and Perceptor had their optics carefully trained on him.

'_You have sixty cycles_,' Shockwave finished. Then he cut communications.

Still unable to speak, he looked hopefully to Perceptor.

'Shockwave scrambled his signal,' Perceptor reported. 'An intelligent move, and a predictable one.'

Cliffjumper grumbled. He could be patient – sometimes. Like when it came to Shockwave. A slow death for Shockwave seemed suitable, a slow, torturous death in which the Decepticon feared his coming, retreating from the world in a maddened frenzy.

Cliffjumper exhaled unsteadily. He briefly looked upwards, towards the Metroplex towering somewhere over them.

'He knew about the bombs,' Cliffjumper explained. 'He's put them under the Metroplex and armed them. We have sixty cycles to come up with a plan.'

'Slaggit, I was afraid of this!' Wheeljack exclaimed. 'We need to warn Kup and tell him to get everyone out of the Metroplex.'

'That would be inefficient,' Perceptor pointed out. 'The devices are easily powerful enough to collapse the Metroplex, the Space Bridge Nexus, and the surrounding city blocks, causing widespread devastation. Sixty cycles is not enough time to evacuate the explosives' radius.'

'Then we got one choice,' concluded Cliffjumper. 'Can you – can you somehow trace the bombs? Track them down?'

'It is possible,' answered Perceptor. 'When armed, the explosives emit a minor subsonic pulse every twenty nanoclicks. Theoretically, we could use this to trace their origins.'

'Get on it,' Cliffjumper ordered. 'I'm going after Shockwave.'

'Cliffjumper – we need you here!' Wheeljack pleaded.

'And _I_ need to take care of Shockwave! He's just using this as a distraction so he can slip away unnoticed! Well, I'm not letting him get away with it! _Never_!'

He transformed and floored it, travelling back in the direction he had come from.

'You don't even know where he is!' Wheeljack shouted after him.

'There is a certain logic to your actions, Cliffjumper,' Perceptor coolly called. 'Should Shockwave elude the Autobots, then he will commit countless crimes in his escape. It is worth the high probability of collateral casualties to ensure that future ones are prevented.'

His tires screamed as they came to a halt.

Cliffjumper transformed and walked the length he'd just travelled to face Perceptor. Perceptor's frustratingly unchanging expression was the same as always. Back right when they had first met, Cliffjumper had entertained fantasies about breaking it.

'What are you saying?' Cliffjumper demanded.

'I did not say anything,' Perceptor replied. 'I implied that you are the only currently available Autobot willing to make the difficult decision to disregard the lives of the Autobots in the Metroplex to pursue a known Decepticon terrorist. Clearly Shockwave must be stopped. Your decision is sound.'

'Is this your attempt to guilt trip me into lending a hand?'

'You have your duty, Cliffjumper, as Wheeljack and I have ours. Our path is clear, but you have the luxury of selecting a decisive action that will determine whether or not an infiltrator is caught or killed, at the cost of many lives.'

Cliffjumper glared firmly at both the Autobots standing before him. His fists involuntarily clenched.

'You know what?' Cliffjumper barked. 'Fine. You got me cornered.'

'Well, don't bother helping if you don't want to!' Wheeljack snapped. 'What's gotten into you, Cliffjumper?'

'What's gotten into me?!' Cliffjumper roared. 'What's _gotten into me_?! Longarm is Shockwave – a Decepticon who spread terror throughout the Great WAr! I would sacrifice_ this whole city_ if it meant Shockwave behind bars, and all you two can do is try to con me into aiding in a job you can clearly do yourself?! Can't you see Shockwave is dangerous?! He needs to be destroyed before he gets farther away than he already is!'

'From my standpoint, Shockwave isn't the dangerous one here,' said Wheeljack.

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'It means you must have some serious malfunction to think that letting thousands of Autobots die is worth capturing one criminal!'

'If Shockwave escapes, it won't be thousands, it will be tens of thousands, maybe millions!' Cliffjumper defended. 'If Shockwave escapes, then Megatron will have his best scientist back, and he'll have the power to develop weapons that will make whatever you two come up with look tame!'

He made no further discussion of it. Cliffjumper transformed and hurtled down the road. Swallowed up by the underground, he armed himself with only a sweltering heat best classified as the fires of the Pits, rising up in a feeble attempt to strike down his prey. To Cliffjumper, there was no one else in the Metroplex, only him and the traitor, and he would never let Shockwave see the light of day again.

* * *

Cliffjumper took the maintenance road until there wasn't any road left, forcing him to travel by foot down a number of long-abandoned staircases twisting into paths only frequented by the occasional maintenance drone. In truth, despite being involved in a department where secrecy was a way of life, he rarely found reason to study Cybertron's intricate underground. The planet carried a long and detailed past, and the underground was not just a place of mystery, but a place that encompassed some of their greatest history. Supposedly it was from these depths that Cybertronians were first conceived, while countless rebellions happened right underneath the watchful eyes of their oppressors.

Appropriately enough, it was here that Shockwave had fled. As Cliffjumper journeyed deeper into unexplored parts of the Metroplex, he saw signs that the Decepticon was hurrying through, from broken security scanners to doors ripped open with unbelievable force. At one point, he even crossed paths with two Autobots hiding from the action above. The only relevant information they provided was that they'd seen Decepticons lurking around. Cliffjumper promptly ordered them to return to their stations or be charged with desertion. They left without question.

Now, he didn't know where he was. The maps he'd briefly studied only took him so far before landmarks started becoming more alien to him. Cliffjumper found himself in a tight corridor blanketed by warning signs to stay out, and piping hot conduits running along the ceiling. He walked in between doors that led into long-abandoned rooms and security stations, where there were nothing but ghosts.

Cliffjumper imagined that he was in the old Metroplex. Long before their building had been constructed, there was another Metroplex, and when it became out-of-date, the Autobots simply built on top of it. It was how most construction projects went on Cybertron. Organic planets could be reformed to their needs, and, on Cybertron, they went about it in a similar fashion, re-purposing every stagnant building to create something new.

Cliffjumper passed by a sign reading "Authorized Personnel Only," repeated it to himself, and paused. From the ceiling, an ancient scanning mechanism lowered and focused a bright blue light on him, confirming his identity. The security gate – old, solid steel bars – were snapped like twigs, and thus the security scan was rendered moot. Some trespasser had swarmed through here.

It wasn't like Shockwave to rush. Cliffjumper had studied every available psychological profile of Shockwave during his time at Intel. Hell, he used to obsessively daydream about how a battle with him would ensue. During the war, hardly everyone had ever seen Shockwave, for he lingered behind a computer screen creating statistics on behalf of Megatron, and then pointing deliberately towards the Decepticon's next target. Usually it was a notable Autobot governor, though occasionally there were whispers of a colony falling, or loyal Autobots unexpectedly defecting to the other side. If Cliffjumper knew one thing, it was that the longevity of the Cybertronians was both their greatest advantage and greatest weakness, for if anything, Shockwave weaved together plans centuries ahead of time.

He'd been planning this for years, but he would never leave behind such blatant signs of his movements. Something was pushing him deeper into the bowels, and as of that moment, as Cliffjumper scurried through the halls, that he knew that _he_ was the one triggering disruptions in Shockwave's carefully laid plans. Cliffjumper smiled grimly as he imagined Shockwave's eye narrowing in subtle annoyance.

Beyond the security gate, he rounded down a flight of stairs and into a maintenance corridor. Pipes bordering either side of the hall screamed as steam rapidly pumped through them.

He saw none of this, for there were corpses blocking the hall.

Never lowering his weapon, Cliffjumper edged forwards to where the bodies were located. Three in total. All some unfortunate Autobots in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were decorated in scorch marks, and the smoke rising from their bodies was still warm.

A shadow flickered in the corner of his eye.

'Shockwave!' Cliffjumper shouted. 'I know you're down here!'

His voice reverberated back to him. Stepping over the bodies, he moved steadily through a pool of various fluids rising at his ankles, not looking down to see what the cause was. But in the shadows, he could smell Shockwave lurking just out of sight, and feel his pointed claws reaching out to snatch from behind. Every sensor was on fire.

Steam rushed before Cliffjumper's path, creating a cloud that parted as he charged forwards to where he'd imagined the Decepticon's shadow. But it was already gone. Cliffjumper directed his gun down the length of the hall, knowing better than to shoot in such a treacherous environment. Should the contents of the pipes be flammable, one misfire could potentially ignite the hall. It was not the preferable outcome, but that was where it stood, and when the steam cleared, he saw that it was vacant of life.

'Shockwave!' Cliffjumper shouted. 'We got some things we need to talk about!'

This statement was met with a drawn pause.

Shockwave bled out of the shadows, his stance erect and casual, his claws dripping with freshly drawn energon. A weight tugged at Cliffjumper's knees. These hallways weren't entirely abandoned – engineers were sent down to these depths to perform regular maintenance that could not be done by automatons, and thus far he had seen none of them. There could be little doubt about where they had vanished to, and that there were more bodies hidden out of sight.

Surprisingly, though, after staring for an indeterminate amount of time, Shockwave turned his back and walked casually in the other direction.

'_Hey_!' Cliffjumper shouted. 'Where do you think you're going?'

'I have more pressing matters to attend to than your feeble need for revenge,' stated Shockwave.

'You think this is about _revenge_?'

'Well, it certainly isn't about your sense of duty.'

Cliffjumper glared down the barrel of his rifle. He grunted in frustration and charged forwards.

'I'm not done with you!' Cliffjumper declared.

'Oh, but you are,' said Shockwave. 'If one shot from your weapons damages these pipes, this entire complex will be destroyed. I know you wish to kill me, but I doubt you are determined enough to kill Autobots who are hiding down here...and there are a number of them.'

Shockwave quickly went through an open doorway. Cliffjumper chased him and nearly balked as the corridor opened up into a dome stretching far over his head, capturing the sound of the throbbing pipes. It was remarkable to think that this place was so fragile, that one shot would mean the end of it all, when construction such as this loomed before him.

He wasn't sure where they were, but he could hear the distant pummel of gunfire rocketing through the facility. Vertical pipes descended from the ceiling to travel deeper and deeper into an abyss centred in the middle of the colossal dome. There was no safety railing. Cliffjumper cautiously moved to the edge to peer down, and saw the labyrinth of pipes and ancient equipment descending even further into Cybertron. He'd heard stories about the intricate inner network of Cybertron, and though he had spent many a year glimpsing blueprints, he had never seen such a raw display of it.

If Shockwave vanished down there, he would be gone for good.

Cliffjumper didn't let his gun falter as he chased Shockwave down the length of the ramp. His patience receding, he squeezed the trigger.

Before he could fire, Shockwave let out a drawn sigh and drew out his own weapon. Cliffjumper staggered to a halt. Shockwave quickly glanced at his surroundings, and, with deliberate steps, he moved towards the wall, where a cluster of pipes effectively blocked Cliffjumper's view. He almost fired, but Shockwave merely reached in. A shrill scream resounded through the dome.

Shockwave drew out his hand to drag out an Autobot who had clearly been hiding among the pipes, so familiar with their networks that he thought he was able to deceive the Decepticon. He struggled feebly against Shockwave's grasp as he moved back to the edge of the pit, holding the worker in front of him as a living shield.

'At this point in time, you would be a benefit to the Decepticon cause if you continued living,' announced Shockwave. 'Don't force my hand.'

Cliffjumper glanced at the worker, then past him to Shockwave. 'You'd be smarter to kill me. Besides, I can't imagine any possible reason why you'd want me to live.'

'If you live, you are the likely candidate to become the next Prime of Cybertron Intelligence,' Shockwave asserted. 'It is better to know who your enemy is and wait for the opportune moment to eliminate them as a threat. As of this moment, this is not the opportune moment for your death. That will happen eventually, but not today.'

Shockwave retraced his weapon, relying solely on the hostage to prevent Cliffjumper from shooting. One move, and Shockwave would disappear into the abyss to never be seen again. He had to keep him talking while he tried to concoct a plan.

'I want to talk to you,' Cliffjumper decided.

'Talk?' Shockwave replied. 'You have never wanted to talk, not for a moment in your existence.'

'I didn't say I wasn't gonna shoot you after. I got questions, you got answers.'

'We both work for Intelligence networks, albeit on opposing sides. You, out of all Autobots, can understand that I cannot give you the answers you are looking for.'

Cliffjumper raised his gun once again. 'I could just skip straight to the shooting.'

'If you didn't kill this Autobot, you would miss, if not due to my great skill, on account of your poor judgement of when to walk away.'

He clenched the gun. Then, his grip slackened, and he lowered it, if only slightly.

'Was it all a ruse?' he asked.

'Every moment of it,' Shockwave confirmed.

'If it was a ruse, why didn't you let them drag me off to the Stockades? You _know_ me! You know I kept checks on practically every Autobot in the Metroplex!'

'I saved your career and possibly your life because we had established a professional relationship that I could not afford to loose,' said Shockwave. 'Because you, out of every Autobot on Cybertron, knew not to believe the illusion of peace. You, out of everyone in the Metroplex, believed wholeheartedly in the return of the Decepticons, and never did you waver. If I kept you close, I could monitor your information networks and search for any cracks in Decepticon networks that could be plugged. You aided us more than you will ever know, Cliffjumper.'

'And Rosanna?'

'An acceptable loss. Together, we managed to keep Decepticon activities under the radar and beneath the notice of Autobots thanks to information gained from our close relationships with you. This attack is of your own making.'

'This is not my fault. This is thanks to your sneaky, underhanded tricks. '

'This particular incident may not be _your_ fault, Cliffjumper, but the Autobots brought this upon themselves.'

'Why did you do it?' Cliffjumper asked. 'Just – just tell me that. Why?'

'You dare ask me that?' Shockwave asked, his voice barely wavering. 'It was my duty. I am a Decepticon. I was a Decepticon long before you were even imagined. I was never an Autobot as you seem to believe; this is what I always was and shall be until I can no longer serve Megatron. And my loyalty to the Decepticon cause is more genuine than any Autobot's loyalty to our leaders or to each other. Autobots can be bought. Why do you think we rebelled? It's because the Autobots represent every level of corruption that we hate, and _you – _Cliffjumper – it is the very same hatred that _you_ have loathed for your entire existence! For these reasons, we fight. It is our civic duty, not because we are paid to do it, but because we _want_ our home world returned to the empire that it rightfully belongs to, not these pretenders lingering in the council seats like corpses.'

Shockwave straightened. Although his voice had been perfectly even throughout his speech, there was a biting edge to his every word. Here, he seemed to recompose whatever malignant anger festered underneath his cold exterior, and focused on Cliffjumper with a new sense of purpose and dissatisfaction.

'Over the last few centuries, I have spared your life on sixty-eight separate occasions where I should have killed you for interference,' said Shockwave. 'If you wish to repay those staggering debts, then you will leave.'

'No chance,' Cliffjumper replied.

'Your persistence is beginning to become irritating,' Shockwave clenched down on the Autobot's head. He squealed and went limp, obviously unconscious. 'Have you heard nothing of what I said about the futility of the Autobot cause?'

'Politics aren't going to get you out of this, Shockwave! You got a lot to pay for, starting with those bombs _you_ planted under the Metroplex!'

'And that is a threat you left behind to chase me, isn't it?' Shockwave countered. 'How many will die because of your gamble? I estimate 7061. What are your chances of misfiring that weapon and detonating an explosion that could potentially devastate this planet? Eight-nine percent. The odds are in my favour, Cliffjumper. Your gamble is an impossible and senseless risk – one that may not result in your death, but thousands dying by your hand. How do you expect to save them – to _kill_ me?'

Cliffjumper sneered. 'I specialize in the impossible.'

He pulled the trigger.

The force from the shot ricocheted down the length of his arm. The sound radiated like the unholy voice of Primus himself, while the orb of energy rocketed forwards to gleefully slam through the chest of the Autobot. Pieces of metal and parts retreated as the shot travelled through him, and then hit Shockwave. There was a flicker of surprise – however brief that flicker was, like a light about to loose power – before the Decepticon started to fall backwards. His solid, red eye smeared into the darkness, as did his body when he crumpled backwards into the abyss. And down he went, down into the Pits, down in the shadows like he deserved, and Cliffjumper felt that he was plummeting with him in some mesmerizing dream that he couldn't wake from.

Frozen on the spot, Cliffjumper heard a loud clattering noise and belatedly realized that he'd dropped his gun. He moved to the edge of the pit, his servo raising to cover his mouth. For a moment, he thought he saw Shockwave's eye signalling like a beacon on a tower, but as always it was in his imagination.

At that point, he became aware of a frail, blinking light hovering at the edge of his peripheral vision. He hesitantly turned, wondering if he was about to look upon another life taken by Shockwave, and instead saw a cylindrical object that looked as though it had been hastily tucked away in the corner.

Cliffjumper moved forwards at a deliberately slow pace until he was only a few feet away from the object, staring at it. The object was tucked in a spot where it was easily accessible to several volatile pipes that controlled pressure in the likes, the very veins that held the Metroplex together. Something about this scene before him awoke him from the encounter with Shockwave, and he wasn't sure how, but he knew it didn't belong.

He opened a communications channel. 'Cliffjumper to Wheeljack.'

'_What do you want, Cliffjumper_?' demanded Wheeljack.

'Status report on the bombs.'

_'Oh, so _now_ you care about it_.'

'Status report.'

'_We found and disabled one, but the other one is still unaccounted for. I'd hate to think what Shockwave did with the damn thing._'

'What would this bomb look like?'

'_I've already told you! Its round and looks like it would fit over a pipe. Doesn't look like anything special, actually_.'

Cliffjumper looked at the misplaced object sitting in front of him.

'I think I found your missing bomb,' announced Cliffjumper in a perfectly even voice that would have made Shockwave envious. 'And from where it's sitting right now, I would say that if it detonates, it could cause a fireball that makes the whole Great War look tame.'

The other end of the communications line went silent.

His throat tight, Cliffjumper collapsed beside the bomb, his hands hovering just above it, fearful of triggering the firing mechanism. Over the communications line, he could hear Wheeljack's heavy, shocked breathing, but little else. Against his better judgement, he feverishly leaned further over the explosive. If he hadn't been consciously on the lookout for it, he wouldn't have even known the difference between this and any other pile of wreckage lying about.

'_Is it armed_?' Wheeljack finally asked.

'How can I tell if it's armed?' Cliffjumper countered.

'_Is it emitting a subsonic pulse_?'

Cliffjumper scanned for one. Sure enough, the display on his scanner detected the faint pulse barely felt in the air, like a ripple in a pool of water.

'Confirmed,' said Cliffjumper. 'Intervals are at every 2.23 nanokliks.'

'_Dammit!_' Wheeljack exclaimed. '_We don't have a lot of time until that thing goes off._'

'Then tell me how to disarm it!'

'_It is _way_ too complicated for you to understand_...'

'Try me!'

'_I'm not too far from your position. I might be able to get there in – !'_

'Slaggit, Wheeljack, I'm not arguing about this with you! Tell me how to disarm this thing!'

A force grabbed Cliffjumper from behind. He rocketed away from the bomb and flew back to where he had entered from. He slammed into the wall, crumpled down, and an audible crack graced him as he tried to regain his senses. For a split second, he believed that the explosive had detonated, and his vision spun wildly as various scenarios passed through his mind. Before he could coherently come up with an answer, something or someone grabbed his ankle and unceremoniously lifted him off the ground.

Dangling helplessly, Cliffjumper realized who the culprit was. But there was no possible way...and yet, his optics did not deceive him, and standing before him, a massive hole in his chest spurting energon and oil, stood Shockwave.

'What...Shockwave?!' Cliffjumper spluttered. 'But you – _dammit_! When someone shoots you you're supposed to die!'

'_Cliffjumper_?' Wheeljack called into the comm link. '_Cliffjumper! Did you just say "Shockwave?" What's going on?!_'

'You pathetic fool,' Shockwave said coolly. 'Did you think I had not prepared for this moment?'

In no conceivable way could Cliffjumper bring himself to resist as Shockwave easily carried him to the abyss. Cliffjumper looked down into the darkness, trying to see some ledge that Shockwave must have used to climb back up to their position.

Cliffjumper swung his weight forwards, struggling against his grip, before swinging up his free leg to hook around Shockwave's arm. The Decepticon instinctively released. He plummeted downwards, unable to control his descent, and reached out to find something to grab. His hand came into contact with metal and he clenched, not carrying what he held, only that it stopped him from joining thousands of corpses haunting Cybertron's deep underground.

His descent suddenly halted, Cliffjumper realized that he'd grabbed onto one of the many pipes lining the walls of the abyss. Thousands of them curled around like snakes, and for a moment he entertained the illusion that they moved. But that was only the result of his spark pounding furiously in his chassis, as he peered up to come face-to-face with Shockwave, just raising his foot to try and kick him off.

Cliffjumper managed to avoid the first strike, climb up, and peer over the edge. Reaching out, he clawed the ground, his fingers screaming against the floor. He wasn't dying like this, and he clenched his teeth to stop himself from giving Shockwave the satisfaction of a cry of terror.

Shockwave prepared to try to push him off again, but a brilliant shot of gunfire slammed into his shoulder. He grunted, his body balking to try to regain his balance. Not questioning his impossible luck, Cliffjumper climbed up and scurried as far away from the Decepticon as possible, trying to remember where he had deposited his gun.

He didn't get far before he saw Kup, the fearsome Autobot marred by years of constant battle, standing in the doorway they had entered from. His gun was raised in preparation, while the familiar faces of Wheeljack and Perceptor lingered at his shoulder.

Kup led the way into the room. Wheeljack and Perceptor immediately flocked to the explosive, while Kup fired once more, just as Shockwave was steadying his stance. Metal and parts flew out of Shockwave's shoulder as the gunfire hit the exact spot that Kup hit the first time. The third time Kup fired, Shockwave vaguely raised a miniscule device in his hand. At once, a perfect aura of pale blue energy flickered into existence, distorting his figure as the shield absorbed the energy. Yet another situation Shockwave had been prepared for.

'Kup!' Cliffjumper exclaimed. 'What the hell are you doing here?'

'Apparently I'm your back-up,' said Kup. 'Shockwave, I'm giving you one chance to surrender, and I don't do it willingly!'

'Are you crazy? Just shoot him already!'

'He could move and I could hit one of these pipes!'

'Then _don't miss_!'

'I'm not taking the risk, Cliffjumper.'

Cliffjumper snatched Kup's gun out of his hand. Ignoring Kup's stunned expression, he imagined Shockwave's eye as a target, and pulled the trigger. Several successive shots of energy hurtled forwards. The shots easily absorbed into the field surrounding Shockwave.

Not relenting, Cliffjumper readjusted his aim towards a nearby pipe. He didn't care. He didn't care how risky it was, or how many Autobots died as a result, only that Shockwave died along with them. He grazed the edge of the pipe with the first shot. A surge of dark red highlighted by vibrant orange enveloped Shockwave, though the fire died just as quickly. Shockwave stumbled, the shield momentarily swallowed by an intense wave of heat that slammed onto Cliffjumper's faceplate. Cliffjumper stormed forwards, continuously shooting towards the Decepticon's blurred figure.

He fully expected to hear Kup screaming at him to stop, citing regulations and nonsense he knew nothing about. But as Cliffjumper maintained fire, a continuous beam of static energy shot forwards like the hand of Primus, hit Shockwave's shield, and shoved the Decepticon closer and closer to the edge of the abyss. Kup stood at the opposite end, holding the gun Cliffjumper had discarded before Shockwave had attacked.

'Set your gun to fire continuously!' Kup ordered.

'Won't that cause it to overload?' Cliffjumper asked.

'Yup!'

Cliffjumper huffed and did as he was told. The gun stolen from Kup also projected a solid beam of light that caused radiating heat. A distinct hum started to chime through the air.

'Perceptor, Wheeljack!' Kup called over his shoulder. 'We need your help here!'

At once, Perceptor and Wheeljack joined the fray, brandishing their own weapons. Four extended beams of light penetrated Shockwave's shield, blinding Cliffjumper.

Ever since he first became aware of the Decepticon conflict, he'd been accustomed to calling himself an Autobot, thinking that somehow that made him powerful. Thinking that somehow, someway, an Autobot's purpose was simply to combat any threat that crawled out of the abyss, forming itself into a twisted reflection of who they were. He thought of Rosanna, a traitor, though not by choice. He thought of Shockwave – his friend – a traitor of his own free will. And then he thought of the missing agents, and Blurr, and whatever Autobots were now lying dead in the far colonies, and the dead Autobots at the Nexus. They were the heralds of death, itself, and up until now they had been perfect strangers.

But that wasn't the case any more. Now, he was bound with a sense of unity with those dead Autobots. The fight was no longer just about righteous anger, but about justice. Now, only now, with Kup at his shoulder, and Perceptor and Wheeljack behind beyond him, united against this snake, did Cliffjumper believe that he was an Autobot.

He held his gun with both hands as it started to vibrate, and with a violent snap, the shield surrounding Shockwave broke. The Decepticon stumbled as, one-by-one, their guns died as they overloaded and started smoking from the end. Kup nodded at him.

Cliffjumper rushed forwards and slammed his fist into Shockwave's eye. The Decepticon arched violently. Then, his enemy started to fall, and it seemed as though he was sending him to the Pits personally. For a brief flicker of a second, he thought he saw Longarm's face gazing at him with a pleading stare, but then the second was gone and Shockwave was already out of arm's reach. Heaving, he collapse onto one knee as he realized the ripping pain in his ankle. But every other part of his body was numb, and he listened hollowly to the distant sound of metal crashing against metal, imagining a part of Shockwave's body breaking with each collision.

'Check the bomb,' Kup directed.

Cliffjumper didn't look up as Kup came up behind him. He slowly sank to his knees to peer deep into the pit.

'I swear, this suicidal bravery of yours is going to get you killed one of these days!' Kup snapped. 'You could've gotten a lot of Autobots killed today!'

'If _you'd_ had it your way, Shockwave would've walked right out of here!' Cliffjumper argued. 'I wasn't about to let that happen.'

'I wasn't going to let him.'

'You shouldn't be here, anyways. What about the Space Bridge Nexus?'

'Killed off most of the Decepticons that came through,' said Kup. 'There's still a lot of resistance, but word is the Elite Guard's on its way here – with Steelhaven and Ultra Magnus at the front. Besides, if those bombs had gone off, we'd all be dead.'

'You should have stayed at the Nexus!'

'Just like you should have stayed with Wheeljack and Perceptor.'

Kup stormed away from Cliffjumper, back to where Wheeljack and Perceptor were examining the pulse. Wheeljack had a stunned expression on his faceplate.

'Status?' Kup demanded.

Wheeljack looked up. 'The pulses ended five seconds ago.'

'What?!' Cliffjumper chortled. 'You mean that thing is – ?'

'Inert. I wonder what...'

Perceptor gave Wheeljack an especially firm look. 'Did you fail to perform routine maintenance of the explosives?'

Wheeljack laughed nervously. 'I thought you were doing it.'

'I specifically instructed you to do it.'

'I don't remember agreeing to that.'

'I specifically _reminded_ you that if we did not perform maintenance checks on the explosives every ten stellar cycles, there would be a high risk that they would become inert.' Perceptor paused. 'That said, your laziness may have saved countless lives.'

'I wasn't being lazy! I mean – I'm lazy, but not when _bombs_ are involved! I thought _you_ were doing maintenance!'

'That's enough,' Kup intervened. 'I want you two to get this thing back to your lab and dismantle it. No more explosives, no more secrets.'

'Who's going to tell Ultra Magnus about this?' Cliffjumper asked dejectedly.

'I will report to Ultra Magnus,' Perceptor offered.

'No, I'll do it,' said Kup. 'He won't be happy, but he'll have to deal with it, and fortunately no one got hurt who didn't deserve it.'

As Wheeljack and Perceptor began to coordinate how to move the massive piece of machinery, Kup went back over to where Cliffjumper sat. Cliffjumper didn't raise his optics to meet his gaze, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Kup's extended hand. Grumbling, he slapped his arm out of the way and got to his feet on his own power.

At the edge of the abyss, Cliffjumper peered into the spiralling darkness and thought he saw Shockwave looming just out of sight, like a perceived threat whose existence he could not prove. He knew then that under no possible circumstance would this be the last he saw of the Decepticon. Maybe he would find his body someday, or maybe he would visit him in his nightmares. But for the moment, it was over. Ultra Magnus would undoubtedly be infuriated over the unauthorized presence of explosives and the mess the Space Bridge Nexus was in. Frankly, Cliffjumper couldn't care less, only that the situation had been contained.


	22. No Greater Evil, Part IV

**No Greater Evil, Part IV**

This was insanity.

It was as if his processor had been ripped open to expose every thought at once, resulting in an overload of sight and sound, until everything blended together like some twisted caricature of what the world was. His methodical world of reason and order was ripped apart, and he was ripping along with it.

It reminded him of the old days of the war, when blasts from guns invoked survival instincts he didn't know he possessed, when the most extreme actions won the battle. And yet, in all these centuries that had swept by him, Oil Slick was surprised that his old ways still applied. In all that time, he stood perfectly still, while the world around him molded like an impossible dream. Back in the old days, they would have never tolerated this level of insubordination – and even if he ended up loosing his head in the process, he instinctively acted.

The Space Bridge Nexus had become a battlefield as it once was during the Great War. Oil Slick had seen it back then, a festering wasteland, but nevertheless a valuable ground. Back in the Autobot's finest hour, the war had been fought city block by city block, and the Nexus – and by extension, the Space Bridges – were assets they could not afford to loose. Oil Slick briefly looked through the gunfire at the sky, remembering when Omega Sentinels dotted the horizons and foretold the coming doom of the Decepticons.

From the top of the Nexus, Oil Slick peered down at the innumerable Autobots lining one end of the arena, while Decepticons shot down at them from the other. But looking over his shoulder, he saw another hoard of Autobots were concentrating on the far side, keeping them pinned down at the bottom of the Space Bridge where they'd first emerged.

They were trapped, and unlike the Great War, their numbers were exceedingly small. Though he could see Blackout and Strika easily ripping apart the ranks, where one Autobot fell, ten others rose to take his place. Oil Slick briefly glimpsed gunfire easily deflecting off of Blackout's armour, but could he tolerate the simultaneous attack of a hundred Autobots, who knew that if Blackout walked among them they were as good as dead? Avoiding their deaths was a promising motivation.

Oil Slick calmly moved in between Decepticon ranks to the end of their line, not paying attention to the gunfire closely passing over his head. He peered for familiar faces, and when he saw none, he opened a communications link.

'Oil Slick to Cyclonus,' he said. 'Sound off.'

'_Above you_,' Cyclonus calmly replied.

Oil Slick looked up just in time to see Cyclonus – in his jet mode – closely passing over the heads of the Autobots to deposit a number of shots into their ranks. Bodies went flying, but not enough as the Autobots rose again to hold their positions. Cyclonus was forced to move further from the ground, dramatically swaying through the air and past their attempted fires, before he aimed for the Space Bridge.

In mid-air, Cyclonus transformed and landed next to Oil Slick, his gun raised in preparation.

'You did a fine disappearing act!' Oil Slick shouted.

'I was inspecting the Metroplex,' Cyclonus replied. 'But I could not approach. Their defensive systems are fully activated and they are prepared to fight. Likewise, Fortress Maximus is armed.'

'At least their reflexes are faster this time around,' said Oil Slick. 'I'm more concerned about the Elite Guard.'

'I have intercepted a number of transmissions,' Cyclonus reported. 'They are on their way. The Steelhaven changed course the moment it received notification of this incident.'

'What about our position on the Galactic Rim?'

'The Elite Guard has regained control of several sectors. The Decepticons only have control over a few lesser colonies.

Oil Slick grunted. 'Fine, then I have no choice. Cyclonus, this was a suicide mission to begin with. We're going to have to retreat, and I'm going to have to tell this to Strika. I will need your support.'

'So long as you are the one to inform Strika of this decision, then I have no objections,' said Cyclonus.

'Follow me.'

Cyclonus flew overhead as Oil Slick made a beeline to Strika's position directly at the front lines. The intensity of the shots flaring around nearly blinded him to his destination, but as always, Strika was unshakable and calm, her every order being carried with such precision that it wrenched apart the Autobots. He brushed shoulders with innumerable Decepticons who had formed a decisive line at the top of the Space Bridge Nexus, shooting down at the inexperienced Autobots as they swarmed into the arena. Incompetent fools. They made easy picking for Strika, and were unworthy of attention by any of the Decepticons. They had spent their entire lives fighting, while this fresh generation of Autobots had never felt the pains of exhaustion and deprivation.

When he reached Strika, she initially didn't pay any attention to him. Cyclonus joined him shortly.

'Strika!' Oil Slick shouted. She didn't respond. '_Strika_! I want to lodge a complaint!'

'What is it, Oil Slick?!' Strika shouted.

'I want to complain about working conditions,' Oil Slick drawled. 'How am I supposed to think with all this noise?'

'Get to the point! I am not in the mood for your criticisms!'

'You may not be in the mood for them, but if you listened to me more often we wouldn't be in this mess. Cyclonus has reported that the Elite Guard are on their way. We need to retreat before they reach us.'

'Don't be absurd!' Strika shouted.

'Tell her, Cyclonus,' Oil Slick ordered.

'We are outnumbered,' announced Cyclonus. 'Perhaps if our numbers were what they were in the Great War we would pose a legitimate threat to these Autobots, but the. It would be better to retreat and regroup.'

'_WHAT_?!' Strika screamed. 'I did not come all this way to back down now!'

'I would like to further remind you that this premature invasion was your decision,' Cyclonus concluded. 'This is your own fault, Strika. Your impatience doomed this pathetic battle from the start. We needed Megatron, and he is missing.'

'We're not going to last much longer like this,' added Oil Slick.

'Not until we kill every last Autobot!' barked Strika.

'You want to kill _Autobots_?!' Oil Slick demanded. 'We lost before we even landed here! Either we retreat or we continue fighting a battle that has no purpose! Make your decision!'

Strika glared into the mass of Autobots growing before her. Even with Blackout fighting valiantly at their side, taking out whole squadrons in one blow, Oil Slick could see a sort of weary hesitation in him brought on by fatigue and lack of motivation.

'Decepticons!' Strika bellowed. 'Return to the Space Bridge and get ready to transwarp!'

* * *

By the time the Steelhaven arrived, the situation was under control. From what Cliffjumper understood, the Decepticons had made a rapid retreat through the Space Bridge when the sheer number of Autobots overwhelmed them. In short, they got lucky, but the body count was high enough and the Nexus was littered with corpses.

In the aftermath, Kup took command of the "clean-up crew," charged with hunting down any Decepticon stragglers who had not joined the substantial group that went through the Space Bridge. Wheeljack and Perceptor retreated back to their laboratory to assess the damage. Cliffjumper returned to the Cybertron Intelligence offices to do a much-needed census of their agents and resources. As always, the moment the excitement died, everyone parted ways to isolate themselves in their specialities, their paths never crossing except when it was convenient.

Several sectors went dark during and after the explosion of activity, but communication hubs were quickly reopening. For the first time, isolated Intel agents received the news that their commanding officer was a fraud. Cliffjumper ordered all of them to switch to a new encoded communications frequency and then immediately relocate. The last thing he needed was Shockwave potentially destroying the network, should he be alive. But, for other sectors, there was nothing but the eerie silence of space, and within the next day or so, Cliffjumper's optimism of hearing their feeble voices reporting in waned.

Blurr was among the missing and his face continued to haunt him. Most of Cliffjumper's memories of Blurr were of drunken hazes and overtime. He did the easiest thing and suppressed whatever coherent memory emerged. There would be time to think about Blurr later, but sooner or later it would come again.

Eventually, Cliffjumper received a summons to Ultra Magnus's office. Since the Steelhaven returned to Cybertron, the Magnus had been held up in Fortress Maximus, juggling whatever needs arose from the various departments. Cliffjumper had been inside of the Magnus's office once before, and that was under different circumstances, and he knew that the confrontation would be strictly about business. Or rather, it would strictly being about Cliffjumper abandoning the effort to find the bombs in order to pursue a traitor. He planned his verbal defences ahead of time, before journeying to the Magnus's office, reflecting on how he preferred to face down an angry Decepticon than an angered Autobot commander.

He was escorted into the office by two Autotroopers, who were quickly dismissed by Ultra Magnus. The office had changed since Cliffjumper had last seen it. When he'd been in here, it was wartime, and it lacked the comfortable accommodations it now provided, such as the spacious corner couch and the private bar. Pictures on the wall depicted various Autobots with Ultra Magus, some of whom Cliffjumper recognized, while others were strangers to him. As he approached the desk where the Magnus sat, he glimpsed a picture of Highbrow. He quickly turned away.

This was the first time in a long time that Cliffjumper dealt with Ultra Magnus in person, and in that time, he seemed to have gotten more intimidating. It was generally accepted that Ultra Magnus had an unusually imposing presence for an Autobot and that was by no means an exaggeration. Cliffjumper did not back down as Ultra Magnus – seated behind his desk – gestured to the nearest comfortable chair. The Magnus was framed by an open window looking down upon the city.

Cliffjumper's eyes inadvertently looked down at the desk. There was a picture of Longarm shaking hands with Ultra Magnus on it.

'I'll stand,' Cliffjumper announced.

Ultra Magnus didn't look the least bit surprised. 'You have a few problems, Cliffjumper.'

'So I'm told. Can you just skip to the part where you chastise me? I have better things to do than deal with you.'

Ultra Magnus sighed. 'What makes you believe that I called you for the sole purpose of chastising you?'

'Because that seems to be the routine whenever a superior officer wants to see me.'

Ultra Magnus rose from his seat. His shadow enveloped Cliffjumper, but still, neither of them backed down.

'Your department is in shambles,' remarked Ultra Magnus.

'I know,' replied Cliffjumper.

'Your commanding officer is presumed dead and a great deal many other agents are either missing or confirmed dead.'

'I know.'

'You should have realized who Longarm Prime was a long time ago. I don't know whether or not you did realize and decided to ignore the signs, but I expected _you_ – of all Autobots – to have better perceptive skills.'

'I know.'

Ultra Magnus folded his arms behind his back and turned his back on him to analyze the skyline.

'That said, you preserved the Space Bridge Nexus and prevented Shockwave from destroying the Metroplex, and with it thousands of lives, not counting potential civilian causalities,' Ultra Magnus continued. 'Capturing Shockwave alive would have been preferable, but we cannot always follow regulations when lives are in danger. I would prefer that he die with his secrets in exchange for irreplaceable Autobot lives.'

Cliffjumper didn't answer.

'Now, concerning Rosanna,' Ultra Magnus continued. 'What do you intend to do with her?'

'I was under the impression that that was a decision you wanted to make,' said Cliffjumper.

'She works in your department, and I trust that you will make a sound decision to her fate. What do you intend to do with her?'

Cliffjumper rubbed the back of her neck. 'Well, I want to keep her in custody. Question her. Might learn a few interesting things about other deep cover agents or – or something else about the Decepticons.'

Ultra Magnus narrowed his eyes. 'That would not have been my choice.'

'Good thing it isn't yours, then.'

Ultra Magnus, at this point, was leaning back into the shadows. Cliffjumper thought he saw him roll his eyes, but he may have been imagining it.

'The only reason I put up with that mouth of yours is because you get results,' said Ultra Magnus. 'And, ultimately, your work standard is above average...when you get your head into it. But know that we cannot allow Rosanna to escape and return to the Decepticons. If she does escape, you are responsible and will face the consequences.'

'She's not going anywhere.'

'I should hope not,' Ultra Magnus pushed a datapad lying on his desk to the side. 'I'm officially placing you in charge of Cybertron Intelligence and promoting you to Prime.'

'I...what? You are?'

'Do you some other Autobot in this room I would want to put in charge of Cybertron Intelligence?'

'Sir, I really – I really don't want the – .'

'If you do not want it, then think of your position as an unfortunate award. You have command and field experience, and although I highly doubt that others will agree with my decision, you are the logical choice to assume command of Cybertron Intelligence.'

Cliffjumper opened his mouth to form some reason why he was an inappropriate successor, but could not.

'No protests?' Ultra Magnus continued. 'Good. The paperwork will be dealt with at a later date, but for now I have new orders for you to carry out.'

'I got other things I need to do.'

'Undoubtedly. That's why this is an order. Our security has been severely compromised and it's vital that we reestablish control. Since you are in command of Cybertron Intelligence, I needn't conceal the extent of the unrest.'

'Unrest?'

'The Galactic Rim has been decimated,' Ultra Magnus reported. 'Tens of thousands of Autobots are dead, but the Elite Guard successfully managed to drive most of the Decepticons back into their territory. It has the public panicked and Autobots are leaving our outermost colonies in numbers no one has seen since the Great War.'

'So, make 'em go back. Tell them to go back to their posts.'

'That is what I plan to do, but there are still skirmishes on the Rim. It isn't anything that cannot be eventually resolved by the superiority of our fleet. That said, Cybertron will have to accommodate these refugees until control is reestablished. You're to recall any agents on the field and have them start collecting information regarding how the Decepticons managed to so easily penetrate our defence forces. I understand that the Space Bridge codes were transmitted from a colony called Athenia?'

'That's right, sir. It went dark after the attack. No word on survivors.'

'I'll have the Elite Guard do a flyby to check on its status and confirm whether or not Decepticons are still present in the area,' said Ultra Magnus. 'Do we know where the Decepticons went after they transwarped from the Nexus?'

'We're still working on that, but if they transwarped to somewhere else in Autobot territory, it was to one of the colonies that have gone dark.'

'Find out where they went, then report to me,' Ultra Magnus ordered. 'Also, Sentinel Prime is currently securing the Metroplex. I want you to come up with ideas about what we can do to increase security.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Then you're dismissed.'

'Uh, sir,' Cliffjumper stepped forwards. '_Sir. _There's something else that needs to be taken care of.'

'Yes?'

'Sir, I'm not sure Shockwave is dead.'

'Why does that not surprise me?' Ultra Magnus murmured. 'Kup made a full report. If Shockwave was not immediately killed by the gunfire, he was killed by the fall into Cybertron's interior. I am not going to waste resources searching for a corpse that has been undoubtedly ripped apart by whatever is down there. If you want to launch an investigation into Shockwave's presumed death, you may do so _after_ security measures have been increased.'

'But Shockwave – .'

'Even if he did survive,' Ultra Magnus raised his hand to silence him. 'He is unlikely to make an offensive move, since he will be seriously injured. You can afford to reestablish control, and _then_ search for Shockwave to your spark's content.'

'This is under protest.'

'I don't doubt.'

'Are we done here?'

'At your convenience.'

Cliffjumper stood perfectly still before this overwhelming presence before him, tormented by every ghost lurking in the corner of his optic. He stood still, uncertain, until Ultra Magnus's words reached his processor and extracted a motivation. Then he turned his back on the Magnus and headed for the doorway.

* * *

Cliffjumper tried to return to his office to work, but it wasn't long before it started to remind him of Shockwave and Rosanna and Blurr and all the things he did not want to think about. His mind switched wildly from one topic to the next. More than once he found himself inhaling sharply and dropping whatever he held, before reaching out to grasp something to steady his balance.

He spent the next few hours continuing the headcount on which Intel agents were and were not missing, as well as revealing to them that their former commander was possibly dead, and he was in charge. He did not tell the agents that it was permanent. Most agents were too shocked to react to Cliffjumper's sudden position of authority, and those who may have cared in the past were too wound up in disbelief at Shockwave's exposure. There would be time for protests later. For now, he gave them their orders, recalled field agents to Cybertron, and started damage control. Emotions were running high, but he needed all hands on deck. The Autobots needs Intel to keep itself together.

However, once the agents were handled, and he found a moment of peace and quiet, he turned his attention to unravelling the mystery of how the Decepticons had so easily penetrated their defence systems. He recalled Wheeljack mentioning where they first transwarped from.

It was Athenia. That was where the Decepticons had come from. That was where Strika had been. Cliffjumper quickly checked through the records, blatantly pushing aside random paperwork covering his desk until he found the datapad he was searching for. Athenia. Small colony. The population had never exceeded 5000, and that was before the attack. It was evacuated when there was word of an invasion threat. All communications lost.

There was a flag on the file.

Flagged? Why would Athenia be flagged? Cliffjumper sifted through the data, slowly lowering himself into his desk chair. 500 stellar cycles ago, a number of agents had placed Athenia among a list of colonies at a high risk for a possible invasion. It was also flagged as a place of strategic value to the Autobots due to being in close vicinity to Decepticon territory. And yet, when the Decepticons started to invade, all non-essential personnel were evacuated. Why would someone do that to a high-risk colony? Who put the order there?

'Shockwave,' Cliffjumper huffed.

But it wasn't Shockwave who gave the order.

It was Ultra Magnus.

Cliffjumper's optics widened at the sight of the identification code of the Autobot who placed the order to withdraw non-essential personnel on Athenia's file, stripping it of its most basic defence. It was Ultra Magnus's code. Their commander's code. _Their leader_ had retracted personnel from a high-risk colony that needed every hand that could carry a gun at his or her post.

Against his will, Cliffjumper rose to his feet. Why would Ultra Magus do that? He had led them through the Great War and understood the value of the colony. So why would he leave a skeleton crew to face an armed Decepticon fleet? Albeit, the Decepticons, themselves, had attacked with in small numbers, but even one Decepticon was a significant threat. They were much better trained and had lived their lives swinging between myth and nightmare.

Was there something he didn't know about Athenia, something tucked away deep into the files? Cliffjumper now had all of Shockwave's access codes, but when he dug deeper, there was nothing to suggest that Shockwave considered the colony as anything more than a minor asset. What possible motivation could Ultra Magnus have for withdrawing troops at a vital time? Was it to save lives? But some of the evacuated Autobots were more than qualified to fight. The incident at the Space Bridge Nexus was proof that sheer numbers could overwhelm the greatest soldiers the Decepticons produced. They could have held Athenia if there were more personnel.

His thoughts were broken when he received a message ordering him to an emergency council meeting. Cliffjumper ignored it. He had no interest in standing around talking about what was going on, when the Decepticons needed to be dealt with, and they were still terribly vulnerable to external and internal attack. Intel needed Cliffjumper at the helm, not negotiating with politicians. Dismissing the message, Cliffjumper grabbed a gun, transformed, and headed directly for the Space Bridge Nexus.

En route to the Nexus, he received two more messages demanding his presence at the Council Chamber, and both times they were ignored. It wasn't as though they could send an army of Autotroopers to fetch him.

The Nexus was nothing short of a battleground. Two Space Bridges had collapsed in the chaos and several maintenance crews were crawling over the damage, clearly at a loss of what to do. Cliffjumper was ignored as he headed up a ramp and to the top of the Nexus, where he paused to survey the area. This was the closest the Decepticons had ever gotten since the Great War, and it could not be repeated. He convinced himself that this was his reasons for doing this, to defend the Autobots, rather than driven by some personal vendetta. Now, as the commander of Intel, his priority was not to blindly obey the orders of the Magnus. Hell, that blind direction had gotten too many Autobots killed already; his priority was to defend Autobots through deceit and deception, as well as to uncover deceit and deception in others.

Ultra Magnus was not immune to investigation. With that in mind, Cliffjumper deliberately walked towards the nearest Space Bridge, where, to his relief, Wheeljack was labouring over the station. He was alone.

'Surprised you're here,' said Wheeljack when he saw Cliffjumper walking up.

'I'm surprised_ you're_ here,' Cliffjumper countered.

'Needed to get away from the lab for a while, and they needed an extra hand with...uh...clean up.'

Both Wheeljack and Cliffjumper briefly looked across the Nexus.

'Why are _you_ here?' Wheeljack asked. 'Isn't there a council meeting going on?'

'I'm not gonna go crawling to Ultra Magnus every time he wants to talk about some useless recovery effort. If you ask me, instead of discussing how we're going to do things, we should just go out and do it. Things would move a lot more quickly around here.'

Wheeljack laughed. 'I think you're going to be an interesting council member.'

'Well, I'll be better than the politicians they got in there,' Cliffjumper countered. 'Wheeljack, I need you to transwarp me somewhere.'

'Uh...I'm not sure that's a good idea right now.'

'Look, believe it or not I outrank you now, so I can order to do it.'

'Well...Where do you want to go to?'

'Athenia. Space Bridge 639-030.'

'Wait, what?'

He sensed Wheeljack pursuing him as Cliffjumper went to stand directly in front of the monstrous Space Bridge. Wheeljack outstretched a hand as if he had some semblance of hope at stopping him.

'You can't!' Wheeljack exclaimed. 'The Elite Guard hasn't even sent ships to see what it's condition is!'

'How would you know?'

'I've been keeping tabs on it.'

'Weird...'

'Not really. I know a few Autobots who were in the area at the time and I wanted to make sure that – .'

'Ultra Magnus said he would have the Elite Guard do a flyby and see if there were Decepticons in the area.'

'Well, I mean...the Elite Guard _is_ pretty busy – .'

'Look, just transwarp me, already. I want to get moving before anyone catches wind of where I'm going.'

'Why would you want to go to Athenia?!'

'It's where the Space Bridge codes were transmitted from. I'm going over there to secure any potential leaks in the system.'

'Couldn't you send Intel agents to do that?'

'I'd rather handle this personally.'

'I mean, do you have authorization?!'

'I'm a Prime. I can do whatever the hell I want.'

'I...think...Ultra Magnus might disagree with that. Besides, you'd have to have an army to go to Athenia! Strika could've left a whole brigade to guard the place!'

'Should be easy, then.'

'Are you forgetting who's on her team?! _Blackout_! He took out _Omega Sentinels_!'

'Blackout left with Strika. I need to find out where this breech came from and close it. If you got any more protests, you can lodge it at Cybertron Intelligence, so I can ignore it.'

Wheeljack deflated, obviously at a loss, and in no position to argue with Cliffjumper. Cliffjumper looked up at the Space Bridge.

'You do know how to work this thing, don't you?' Cliffjumper asked.

'I – yeah, of course,' Wheeljack confessed. 'But this still seems like a bad idea.'

'Just get this thing working.'

Wheeljack sighed and ambled over to the station.

'If you say so, Cliffjumper, but I gotta recalibrate the Space Bridge before I do anything with it,' advised Wheeljack. 'Should only take a few minutes. And – and when you get to Athenia, watch your step. You don't know what the 'cons left behind. Oh...and can you keep an eye out for survivors?'

'Survivors are a secondary objective.'

This seemed to satisfy Wheeljack. Cliffjumper looked towards the Metroplex, now visibly scarred and quiet. Once in a while, he would see an Autobot swiftly pass by, on their way to some destination of more importance than Athenia. They were so focused that it was apparent that the Autobot was just trying to ignore the visible, black scars on the facility, or the bodies that had not yet been collected.

Recalibrating the Space Bridge did not take long, and when Wheeljack summoned him back to the transwarp spot, Cliffjumper gladly pulled his gaze away from the damaged Metroplex. He hadn't gone two steps when an unholy roar echoed across the Space Bridge Nexus, followed by a familiar car speeding up the ramp that led to their location. Wheeljack wisely stood back as Kup neared them, transformed, and stormed forwards.

'Where the hell do you think you're going?' Kup demanded.

'Ultra Magnus sent you?' Cliffjumper assumed.

'Damn straight. Look, kid, I don't know what planet you live on, but when the Magnus wants you to attend a meetin', you _do it_.'

'Ultra Magnus can stick it in his aft. I got more important things to do. Besides, technically I outrank you.'

'Primus, are you gonna be lording that over me from now on?'

'Yup.'

Kup massaged his forehead. 'Cliffjumper, where are you going?'

'Athenia.'

Kup spluttered. 'You're insane! No one even knows if the Space Bridge is responding! For all we know, Strika could'a left an army to guard the place!'

'That's what I said!' Wheeljack exclaimed.

'I need to secure any possible security leaks in the area,' said Cliffjumper.

'You can send another agent to do that.'

'Also a suggestion I made,' agreed Wheeljack.

Cliffjumper narrowed his optics, and looked Kup in the face. 'There's another reason.'

'Figured as much.'

'Ultra Magnus ordered all non-essential personnel evacuated from Athenia when we received word of a possible invasion. He knows the strategic value of Athenia, but he left a skeleton crew to defend it, as if he intended to sacrifice the colony.'

'Is this another conspiracy theory? Look, I've known Ultra Magnus for a long time, and if he evacuated non-essential personnel, then he had a good reason for it. He'd explain it to you if you bothered to ask instead of taking off.'

'Athenia was flagged as being at high risk for Decepticon attack before the invasion,' Cliffjumper continued. 'It sits right on the Galactic Rim. If we lost control over the Rim, the Decepticons would have an open door _right_ into our territory. Why would he evacuate the colony? It shouldn't have been evacuated – he should have sent Elite Guard ships directly to it! Why did he send them to other places instead, like Omnicron?'

'Omnicron has two Space Bridges and a larger population to protect – .'

'It was also better fortified, it had anti-aircraft guns, and a large military presence. Hell, there was an Elite Guard training base right on the colony! Why did he leave Athenia unguarded? If we lost Athenia, we may as well have lost the Rim!'

Kup chewed on his cy-gar.

'Something's not right here,' Cliffjumper affirmed. 'Ultra Magnus knows something about Athenia that he didn't bother sharing with Intel. Now try telling me that doesn't sound odd to you.'

Kup rolled his cy-gar between his teeth. Then, he clamped down on it.

'I gotta go to Athenia myself and see what the big stink is about this place, and if I don't get there before Elite Guard crews arrive, then Ultra Magnus will have the time to cover up whatever's there. And _that's_ why I skipped the council meeting. Happy?'

'I'm coming with you.'

'Why?'

'Because you're going alone, with no back-up, and no idea of what you're getting into.'

'Like you haven't done worse!'

'At least I always went in with a plan, but you don't, do you?'

'Maybe not,' Cliffjumper checked his gun, only slightly damaged and dented in the firefights. There was no time to go back to the office to replace it. 'It'll be a quick drop. Every Autobot over there is dead, anyways.'

Kup looked at Cliffjumper frankly. 'I knew two members of the security squad that were stationed there. I'm going with you.'

'Then this is personal.'

'It's going to take a whole lot more than you saying "no" to convince me to stay here. Get in line or get out of my way.'

Cliffjumper prepared to deny him. He prepared to lean on Kup with every regulation, but he knew that his own actions were against regulations, and even if he tried to stop Kup, there was a good chance he'd end up with something broken. Begrudgingly, he grumbled, nodded, and turned to face the growing transwarp field highlighting the Nexus in electric blue.

'Ready?' Wheeljack asked.

'Go for it,' said Cliffjumper.

'Three...two...one...'

The transwarp energy extended from the field far above them and snapped down to touch them. Cliffjumper felt his body lurch forwards and disappear into the folds of space-time continuum.

The transwarp was immediate. One moment, he was peering past the Space Bridge to the skyline of Iacon, and then he was peering into a starry sky just beyond a sparse settlement located at the far end of a rocky field. They landed, hard, on what had once been the bustling colony of Athenia. But when Cliffjumper raised his gun, flanked by Kup, he saw the eerie silence characteristic of space usually lost behind the turmoil of noise pollution caused by Cybertron. It was a graveyard. The most distinctive sign of a battle that Cliffjumper could see were scorch marks and bits and pieces blasted off of the Space Bridge, itself, while black smoke blanketed the horizon. Some buildings had been visibly knocked down in the process of some violent fight.

The second thing he noticed – aside from the damage – were two casualties curled up nearby. Kup was the first to approach, his gun never faltering, to examine the damage. One of them was a striking orange Autobot with enormous damage to one side of his body and a portion of his face missing, while the other was completely encased in a solid red-brown substance. Cliffjumper sighed. He recognized the handiwork at once.

'Well, looks like this is where Strika's team came through,' said Cliffjumper. 'Are they alive?'

'The orange guy's got a lot of damage, but it looks like it can be repaired,' nodded Kup. 'The other has a classic case of Cosmic Rust...Got lucky. If the Decepticons hadn't been so eager to get to Cybertron, they would've finished them off.'

Kup paused.

'Someone you know?' Cliffjumper guessed.

'Yeah. Former student. He commanded of the security squad here. Dumb kid probably tried to be a hero.'

'He didn't do good enough,' growled Cliffjumper. 'Let's get to the security team's office. It's the only place the breech could have come from.'

The headquarters were situated on the ground floor of a building not a stone's throw distance from the Space Bridge, and where a makeshift spaceport bordered the rear. There was only one ship left. Cliffjumper immediately recognized it as a warship, though there was no damage, nor any signs of recent use. That came as no surprise; the Autobots had probably placed a priority on being on the ground rather than attacking from the air. He and Kup had all senses alert as they crossed out into the open, moving like back in the old days when they really would have had to worry about an attack. Cliffjumper didn't want to take any chances. This was the perfect place for an ambush; they were in their own territory, which meant their guard was down, and Athenia had thousands of potential hiding spots. His eyes flicked to each towering pile of crates that could provide ample cover for the experienced predator.

They entered the security team's headquarters through the rear doorway. It was completely dark, save for a flickering light. It looked as though a bomb had gone off; equipment was smashed to pieces, the control centre was completely ripped apart, and the office where the commander of the team would have conducted day-to-day operations wasn't even comprehensible to have once been a place of order. There was another body – this one of a younger Autobot – pressed against the wall, where energon and oil was splattered all around him. As they passed he shivered and they held position while Kup checked him over.

'Is he conscious?' Cliffjumper asked. 'Ask him if he knows how the Decepticons got the codes.'

'He's not conscious, Cliffjumper,' Kup countered.

'Then leave him.'

There was one final hallway that led into a small brig consisting of three cells. Cliffjumper took point and went past the first two without incident. It was at the third that he was just sticking his gun around the corner when a deafening voice shouted into the hall.

'I got a gun and I ain't afraid to use it!' roared the voice.

'You're going down hard, Decepticon!' shouted Cliffjumper.

'Same to you, _Decepticon_!' answered the voice.

There was an awkward pause in which Cliffjumper raised his gun, a gleeful smile on his face. Kup gave him a disapproving look.

'Are you an Autobot?' Kup asked.

'I should hope so,' replied the voice.

'Okay, we're friendly. We're coming in.'

'I'll go first,' insisted Cliffjumper.

'Forget it, kid,' Kup hissed. He raised his weapon and turned around the corner.

Cliffjumper quickly followed him in, but quickly relaxed when he saw an Autobot sprawled on the floor on the opposite side of the cell. He stepped over the body of a horribly disfigured Autobot lying before him to reach the Autobot.

'Brawn?' sneered Kup.

'Nice to see you Kup,' Brawn waved his hand vaguely. 'Good to know you remember how to hold a gun. Would've figured you'd lost your touch by now, all that office work...'

Kup smirked and clamped his teeth down on his cy-gar. 'Got shot?'

'No kidding.'

'I thought you had a gun.'

'Bluffing.'

'Risky.'

'You believed it.'

Cliffjumper stepped forwards to examine Brawn's condition, himself. Multiple holes decorated his chassis like unholy badges of survival. Were he any other Autobot, he would probably be unconscious or shrivelling, like the Autobot in the common room, but clearly Brawn was no ordinary Autobot.

'How did the 'cons get through the Space Bridge?' demanded Cliffjumper.

'Who the slag are you?' Brawn barked.

'Cliffjumper.'

'Oh,' Brawn looked far from pleased at this revelation. 'Heard of you. Wish I hadn't, but I have.'

'Yeah, yeah, how did the 'cons get through the damn Space Bridge?' Cliffjumper pressed.

'Might've been Ironhide,' Brawn admitted. 'It wasn't a glitch in our systems, I'll tell you that. Only Rodimus and Ironhide had the codes to transwarp. I don't think Rodimus could've given them the codes 'cause he gets pretty firm when he gets his head into it. I'm guessing it was Ironhide. Stupid kid. They were ripping the squad apart and I guess he panicked, or lost hope. Whatever comes first.'

'If you thought he was going to crack, you should've killed him,' snapped Cliffjumper.

'We don't do it that way,' Kup reminded him.

'And maybe that's why the Decepticons got the drop on us!' Cliffjumper retaliated. 'I'm just relieved it wasn't a glitch in our system – just _stupidity_! It's _always_ stupidity!'

'Knock it off,' Brawn snapped. 'Hey, Kup, do me a favour. Check on her.'

He needn't have said anything, though, because Kup was already leaning over her.

'Red Alert,' murmured Brawn. 'Shame.'

'Not quite,' said Kup. 'Still has some processor function. We might be able to salvage her. Was there anyone at the town, Brawn?'

'Yeah, another squad that was supposed to slow them down, but I'm not too hopeful about any survivors.' He sighed. 'Then there's Hubcap – he worked at the communications tower – but he went quiet after the attack. Don't know if he took off while the going was good or if the 'cons got to him. Well, never mind. Whole team's dead and I'm the only one left.'

Kup frowned and didn't answer, as if to confirm Brawn's fears when no one was actually dead yet. Cliffjumper left to go stare at the unconscious, severely injured Autobot lying in the common room, putridity mangled beyond recognition. He encased himself in the Autobot's silent distress, wishing that he had the excuse of severe injury to drown out his thoughts.

It was only then that he acknowledged the inevitable fact that he wouldn't be able to concentrate on investigating the asteroid until these Autobots were out of here, and all that was left to do was call for damage control to swarm over this asteroid. It had been a long day and he could taste the desire for fine oil in his mouth, but the sun had not yet set.

* * *

After sifting through miles of paperwork and taking a long walk across Athenia, Cliffjumper surrendered. Albeit, it was only because of Kup. It was only because Kup mentioned to him that he appeared tired that Cliffjumper became aware of it and it was only when Kup took him aside and told him to go home that Cliffjumper realized that he hadn't had any recharge since the attack. How long ago had it occurred? Two days ago? Three? Time seemed somehow altered on the asteroid, and when he transwarped back to Cybertron, he was thrust back into the usual bustle of the city that held the ability to make him forget where he was.

However, he didn't immediately return to his quarters. Cliffjumper found himself working on autopilot. Instead, he found himself moving through the Metroplex and towards a vast laboratory filled with the carnage of twisted metal and destroyed experiments. A lone Autotrooper stood guard outside. He nodded to him, and then Cliffjumper entered.

Cliffjumper looked drearily around at his surroundings. As he suspected, it was impossible to tell one object from the next. Every thought seemed to take a tremendous amount of effort to produce. At first glance, the laboratory was deserted, and then he saw a lone Autobot standing amongst the wreckage, working feverishly to pull the ruins apart.

Wheeljack turned to face him. 'The council's still in session. Thought you ought to know.'

Cliffjumper couldn't speak. He blinked lazily back at Wheeljack.

'You look like slag,' Wheeljack remarked. 'Want to sit down?'

'I'll stand,' Cliffjumper replied.

'Is Athenia – ?'

'The Decepticons were long gone by the time we got there,' said Cliffjumper. 'What's with the guard outside?'

'Sentinel's idea. What's Athenia like?'

'A wreck,' Clifjfumper kicked over the nearest piece of equipment, not caring if it was expensive or not. It made a satisfying crash, but the noise was muffled and distant. 'Strika and her team ripped apart the security squad. Surprised any of them lived. The medics are gonna haul them to the Metroplex's medical ward for treatment, for whatever good that'll do. More importantly, I couldn't dig up any evidence pointing to why Ultra Magnus left a skeleton crew to defend an important strategic position.'

Wheeljack seemed to fade away. He slowly sunk into the nearest chair, exhaled, and massaged his optics. Even while Cliffjumper spoke, Wheeljack's responses were mechanical and automatic, not unlike Perceptor's firm grasp of the world.

'How is she?' Cliffjumper asked, his voice surprisingly even and casual.

'She's in stasis,' Wheeljack reported. 'Look, Cliff...it's been a long day and we're all pretty high strung right now...but are you sure about this?'

'Positive. Can you separate Flip Sides and Rosanna?'

'It's not that simple, Cliff. They're integrated. There's no real distinguishing features between the two. If you take one part of the personality out, you're just not going to be the same Autobot.'

'Can you do it?'

'Haven't you heard a word I said? It's – it's just not as simple as you seem to think it is.'

'Make it possible.'

Wheeljack sighed. 'We'll do everything we can. I promise. Why don't you head back to your quarters? You look like you could use some recharge.'

Wheeljack's promise that they would do everything for Rosanna would have to be good enough. Too often was he sidelined, anxiously awaiting the results to some obscure weapons test the scientists wanted to explore in detail. He was used to it, if anything. Used to staring at closed doors and wondering what was happening on the other side. He unconsciously went to stare at a doorway leading into an adjacent lab.

'...You can go in, if you want to,' Wheeljack offered.

'Yeah.'

He waited until Wheeljack had his back turned before entering.

In the semi-shadows, he stepped forwards to stare blankly at Rosanna's unconscious form. She was lying on a berth, as instructed, with various instruments attached to her and effectively forcing her into a comatose state. As a consequence, Flip Sides was also suppressed.

He couldn't keep her like this forever. Sooner or later, Sentinel – or some other bureaucratic Autobot overestimating his own importance – would demand her termination. He let out a long sigh, feeling every tense joint release with the exhale, and he placed his gun on a side table so he could lean against Rosanna's berth and massage his optics. He tried to think about the Autobot who would tell him to execute her, before some Decepticon also burst in and tried to take her away. Would they come like Flip Sides did not think they would, or would they leave her to her fate?

Cliffjumper wasn't sure what the greater evil was. Was it the greater evil that he was allowing Rosanna to continue existing in this comatose half-life, impossibly lost in whatever nightmare she experienced now, or was it the greater evil that when she was awake, she was Flip Sides, a Decepticon born into a position chosen for her. He realized, now, that their fates had been dictated, and the futility of the war was as obvious to him as Shockwave's motives. Why was it that he was unable to do his duty like Shockwave? Had living a life of comfort since the Great War softened him into someone he didn't even know? Was it the greater evil that this was what the Autobots had become, while the Decepticons thrived? Had their comfortable lives destroyed what fighting spirit they had?

It was far too late to think about these philosophical questions, and as they rose in his mind, he discarded them. As always, Cliffjumper took comfort in the temporary solution. He would preserve Rosanna in this room, like an ancient artifact, and hope that when she awoke, she would be as he remembered her.


End file.
